


Return to Sender

by KawaiiKekeChan



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: AU, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2018-11-22 11:40:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11379465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KawaiiKekeChan/pseuds/KawaiiKekeChan
Summary: After the death of Le Papillon (and his father) Adrien is left with a hole in his life... and a lot of wealth. He uses his money to support crowdfunding causes, one of which happens to be Marinette's boutique.The designer is determined to track down her anonymous benefactor, and Alya (her journalist BFF) is also curious about Paris' wealthy patron.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the recent generous work of LOVE ARMY FOR SOMALIA by Jérôme Jarre (please donate if you can!)

It was pitch dark in the apartment, a soft glow only from the open Macbook on the kitchen table. Adrien Agreste sipped from his glass of chilled white wine as he scrolled. After a moment of hesitation, he decided, clicking the donate button and typing in the full amount. He had limited himself to one charitable cause and one personal cause a week. It would be easy to only help the sick children, but Le Papillon had also wrecked Paris’ economy, so he felt obligated to help out struggling and new businesses.

Adrien closed the Mac with a sigh. He supposed this is how those addicted to gambling felt: another hit, another bet placed, and they could breathe easy again before the panic and the itch started the next day. Alcohol and donations: that was how Adrien dealt with the guilt.

He would have been happy to sit in the darkness and let it swallow him whole for another night, but Jolie (his adopted black cat) meowed angrily near her bowl, reminding him it was dinner time.

The model scraped back his chair and felt for the light. Jolie draped around his ankles as he topped up her food bowl and water. He scratched her under the chin and she offered his fingers a lick. Adrien made a point of supporting the local cat shelter with a monthly donation, and when he heard they were struggling for space, he had agreed to adopt. Jolie was a young mother who had lost her kittens, and he felt a connection with her straight away. As two lonely souls, he hoped they could heal each other. He had read a study that said cats were helpful for coping with depression.

There was a scrape of a key in the lock, and Adrien smiled for the first time in days. Only three people had keys to his apartment, and only one fumbled with the key every single time. He gave it a few more seconds, before going over and unlocking the door.

“Sorry!” Marinette laughed, greeting him with kisses on each cheek. “I swear that door hates me.”

“All doors hate you,” Adrien teased, reminding her of the many times he had saved Marinette from being locked out of her home (she still lived at the bakery) or work (she worked part-time at a boutique in town).

“True,” Marinette mused, placing a covered dish on the counter. She never came empty-handed, and always seemed to time her visits with meal times, as if she was worried he wasn’t eating enough.

“Papa’s cheese quiche, fresh out the oven!” Marinette declared, taking two plates out the cupboard. Adrien’s stomach grumbled in response. Had he eaten today? Or yesterday?

“Your father is the best,” Adrien sighed, setting the table.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t forget about you, Jolie!” Marinette cooed, taking a treat from her handbag. “But I’ll wait until you’re finished dinner.”

The black cat rubbed her face against the young woman’s legs before returning to her food. Jolie hated visitors, but she had a soft spot for Marinette. Or perhaps the blue-eyed woman was just good with black cats.

 

* * *

 

They talked about the usual during the meal: Marinette’s parents were struggling to keep up with demand so she was helping out a few times a week, and balancing commissions in her spare time.

“You know I’m happy to offer you a loan,” Adrien said, for the fourth or fifth time. “Just pay me back when you make it big, Mari.”

“I can’t, Adrien!” she protested, like always. “It will take me years to make back any profit. Besides, it’s expensive starting out on your own! The premises and insurance alone will eat up all my money. Working at the boutique is good experience, and I’m making connections, too. It will pay off.”

He didn’t push the issue, as he hated making Marinette upset, and she was sensitive talking about money. Besides, his friend didn’t really know how much he was worth. When his father had died, the trashy magazines had estimated his wealth based on the fashion business and they were incorrect by a large margin. The press didn’t know about all the small companies Le Papillon had been involved in, under a false name, or all the property Gabriel had really owned.

Adrien had sold them, along with the mansion full of memories of his dead parents. He had sold everything, not taking a single token or momento. Plagg had warned him he would regret it, but he didn’t care. He didn’t want any memories of either of them: he wanted to start completely afresh.

“Adrien?” Marinette said, clearly for the second time. He had zoned out, something that seemed to happen a lot lately.

“Sorry,” he apologised. “What did you say?”

She smiled gently. “I brought another boxset over. Are you in the mood for some dystopian?”

“Sure thing!” Adrien nodded. Nothing could be more bizarre than his life.

 

* * *

 

They curled up on the sofa, and Jolie jumped into Marinette’s lap.

“Traitor,” Adrien said bitterly, but he didn’t mind. Jolie purred happily: Marinette’s long nails were great for itching that certain spot behind the cat’s ear.

They lost themselves in a few episodes of the dystopian series, laughing at the over-dramatic dialogue and rolling their eyes at the clichés (“long-lost identical twins, really?”). Then, there was a sudden suicide scene, and Marinette immediately grabbed the remote and switched the television off.

“I’m so sorry!” she gasped, grabbing the boxset case. “I checked and there wasn’t any mention of that at all…!”

“It’s okay, Mari,” Adrien reassured her, patting her hand. “It’s been a few months now. You can’t protect me from everything.”

“I know, but still…” Marinette bit her lip, eyes downcast. “I still can’t believe Gabriel would…”

“It’s okay,” Adrien wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. The model knew how much she had worshipped his father, and Gabriel’s death had been much more of a shock to her than his other friends. “He hadn’t been the same since my mother disappeared. These things happen.”

It was a phrase he had learned to parrot from his counsellor. These things happen. Fathers die, mothers run away. Parents can commit suicide. It was an easy thing to understand, easy to sympathise with.

But it had been so much more than that. His father hadn’t just committed suicide. He had been a villain, and he had terrorised Paris trying to find his mother.

“Let’s watch a chick flick, hmm?” Marinette clapped her hands together. “You haven’t seen Bridesmaids yet, right? Alya snorted milkshake out her nose it was that funny.”

“Attractive,” Adrien grinned, but their peaceful mood had returned.

 

* * *

 

The night ended like most of their movie marathons, with Marinette passed out against his shoulder. Her face was pale even under her light make-up and the purple shadows under her eyes betrayed how hard she had been working.

It would be so easy to fall asleep beside her, to be lulled by her body heat and even breathing. But Adrien wasn’t willing to risk this beautiful friendship they had, and Marinette was one of the few friends he hadn’t managed to push away.

Adrien carried her easily into the spare room and tucked her in. Jolie jumped onto the bed and curled into a lump on Marinette’s stomach. For once, Adrien wished he was a real black cat. He retreated to his bedroom and his cold bed. At least his heart was warmed when Marinette visited.

 

* * *

 

He slept late as always, now he was lacking in routine, so Marinette had left him a little note and a reminder to finish the quiche. Adrien’s mobile buzzed with an alert about his lunch meeting. He had set up a charity foundation with a chunk of Le Papillon's money, and he had found a reliable friend of Alya’s to run it.

Ambre was originally from Somalia and she favoured loud clothing and dozens of bangles that jingled when she talked. Adrien had warmed to her right away. Ambre was going to train volunteers in Paris and then fly them over to help with the famine in her home country. It seemed like a great idea: help young Parisians gain life experience for their future careers, but also help another country in great need. After a few meetings of discussion, the decided to call the charity the Wing Foundation, as it literally flew young people over, but also gave wings to their dreams, and those suffering from the famine.

Adrien was drained after the meeting. Ambre was lovely but very intense, and although Adrien was enthusiastic, he didn’t have the business mind of his father, and tended to get overwhelmed by the sheer amount they still had to prepare.

He was glad his main role was being the pretty white boy with the funds. Ambre was far more qualified to deal with the foundation.

 

* * *

 

 

Adrien texted Alya to thank her again for the recommendation, and then feed Jolie. He sat down at the kitchen table, and felt uneasy again. Perhaps just one more? Perhaps just one more donation, and then he would feel satisfied.

The blonde opened the Mac quickly and fired up the Go Fund Me page. He scrolled through several no-starters: friends wanting to organise a hen party, a couple who wanted to build an extension on their house. Then, he spotted it: ‘Please help a budding designer build her dream!’

Adrien smiled and clicked on. The story was very similar to Marinette’s… an art student who had graduated with distinction and was trying to save despite the awful economy. Some of her sketches were displayed on the page, and Adrien knew enough from working in the fashion industry that she had talent.

‘I hate asking people for money, and I’ve been rejected for business loans, so I thought I could set this up, and in return for commissions, you can help establish my very own boutique!’

The perks were rated from small things like original prints of the designs to commissioned ball gowns. The highest perk, 20,000 euros, was the chance to name the brand.

Adrien noticed that barely anyone had contributed so far… there were a few friends and family who had donated ten euros a piece. The model cracked his knuckled and clicked. Some donations pages allowed you to pledge the full amount, and others allowed you to go over. He was pleased to see this was the latter, and he added another zero. It seemed poetic justice that Gabriel’s inheritance was being used to give a fashion designer a head start.

As the email confirmed his donation, Adrien closed his eyes, feeling relaxed once more as the hit buzzed through his veins.

 

* * *

 

“Ahh, it’s so frustrating!” Alya set her latte glass down a little too hard on the table. “All my leads have gone stone cold. No one knows who this guy is!”

“Hmm…” Marinette mused, stirring her hot chocolate. It was an unseasonable chilly day. “An anonymous donor helping good causes without a trace? Better than another super-villain, no?”

“Well sure, though my Ladyblog is rather quiet these days,” Alya lamented. “It’s nice to see they haven’t completely hung up their capes even after the defeat of Le Papillon…”

“I guess they want everyone to feel safe?” Marinette smiled knowingly behind her cup.

“Well, back to this ‘Golden Heart’,” Alya said, pushing her glasses up her nose. “Doesn’t it seem suspicious, splashing all this cash? Perhaps he’s really ‘Guilty Heart’ instead?”

“You’re such a journo,” Marinette rolled her eyes, digging in her handbag for her mobile as it pinged, alerting her to an email. She tapped the screen and frowned. “That can’t be right…”

“Bank charges again?” Alya asked sympathetically.

“No…” Marinette laughed, a little hysterically. “No… I think it’s a glitch. You know that Go Fund Me I set up last night? It’s saying it’s closed, that the full amount has been donated. Must be a computer error.”

“Let me see,” Alay held out her hand for the phone. “You’ve always been a techno-hazard, girl.”

“True,” Marinette nodded, handing it over. “I’ve probably clicked the wrong thing…”

“Wait…!” Alya jumped to her feet, scaring the nearby waitress. “Holy fuuuuck, M, it’s him!”

“Shut up,” Marinette shook her head. “There’s no way!”

“Look!” Alya shoved the screen in her friend’s face. The donation amount was credited to a G.H, which the media had dubbed ‘Golden Heart’.

“Hold on…” Marinette blinked. “Count those zeros, Alya. That’s not just me, right?”

Her best friend flipped the phone around and squealed. “Omg! You are rich!”

Marinette grabbed the mobile back. “I can’t accept it, obviously! It must be a mistake! Can I refund the offer?”

“Are you crazy!” Alya gasped. “This is my lead! You need to meet this GH and report back to me!”

“Alya,” Marinette said seriously. “This is 200,000 euros we are talking about!”

“Damn…” Alya licked her lips and nudged the bill across the table. “These are on you.”

 

* * *

 

To: [G.H.donates@gmail.com](mailto:G.M.donates@gmail.com)

From: [PolkaDotPrincess@yahoo.fr](mailto:PolkaDotPrincess@yahoo.fr)

Subject: Donation

 

Hi there,

 

I think there may have been a mistake! I really can’t accept this donation.

 

Can you please get in touch so I can refund you?

 

Many thanks,

 

M.

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------

 

To: [PolkaDotPrincess@yahoo.fr](mailto:PolkaDotPrincess@yahoo.fr)

From: [G.H.donates@gmail.com](mailto:G.M.donates@gmail.com)

 

Subject: Donation

 

Hello!

 

No take-backs, I’m afraid :3

 

I’ll take my perk now though: I love the name Polka Dot Princess!

 

Let’s make that the brand name. I can’t wait to see it!

 

Best wishes,

 

Your friendly neighbourhood donator

 


	2. Chapter 2

Marinette looked at the amount in her bank account again, feeling twitchy. She had never seen so many zeros in her life. These days, she was content to be a hundred shy of her maximum overdraft limit. Now, she had a sum of money that she couldn’t even envisage.

Her attempts to refund the money had been fruitless, and she had even called up the customer service team of the website to ask for advice, but they were unable to share information. Data protection laws ensured that her wealthy patron was allowed to stay anonymous.

She broke the news to her parents after a sleepless night, the secret a heavy ball in her stomach, unable to let her rest. Marinette joined her parents at six as they broke fast, something she didn’t make a habit of.

“Are you pregnant?” Marinette’s mother asked straight away.

“No, mama,” the young woman sighed, and rolled her eyes. Anytime she had something serious to say, her mother believed it was to let them know she had been knocked up (chance would be a fine thing. An active sex life would be required and Marinette could vaguely remember her last encounter, around ten months ago.)

She explained the situation the best as she could, as well as the fact she had tried and failed to return to money. Her parents sat in silence for a few moments, before her father clapped his hands together.

“Well, my daughter, I think you should take this chance. You wanted a deposit for a shop, and now you can buy one, and more. Go down to the brokers and see what they have!”

“But it doesn’t feel right,” Marinette worried her lip. “It’s not my money!”

“Trust us, starting a business is not easy,” Sabine explained. “You’re not going to profit straight away. It seems this Golden Heart has been funding small businesses left and right. Perhaps they have no sons or daughters to leave inheritance to, and want to share their wealth in way that will benefit Paris?”

“Could be,” Tom nodded. “Stranger things have happened.”

 

* * *

 

And so, with her parent’s blessing, Marinette took the dream-like trip to the estate agents. A lovely Puerto-Rican woman showed her around some shops that could be converted into the sketches for the boutique she had planned.

Taking her parents advice, Marinette decided to buy a small property with an upstairs room that she could live in. There was no sense in having a massive boutique for just starting out: something petite would do well, until she had built the brand up enough to expand.

After looking at cafés, pharmacies and salons, Marinette found the perfect place, on boulevard de la Bastille. It was an old shop front full of charm, with floor length windows and a glass door that needed replacing. There was a tiny attic room that would just be able to fit a bed, with a bathroom and kitchenette. At 90,000 euros, it was a steal, and allowed Marinette to transform the space into her dream boutique.

 

* * *

 

The next few weeks were a blur. After signing on the dotted line, Marinette hired builders to tear the place apart and remove the awful cabbage green wallpaper and stained carpets. Her mother and Alya helped her clean the attic from top to bottom. Although she would have loved to go mad with interior design, Marinette stayed firm. The money was to be used for the business, and business alone. She allowed herself the bare minimum that she would need to get buy: a fresh lick of pain and sanded wooden floors, a new fridge and microwave. She had to buy a new bed and desk as her parents planned to rent out her room at home, but apart from that, the attic was bare. Marinette ignored Alya’s pleas to splurge out. All she needed was her sewing machine, and she was happy.

Downstairs, she allowed herself to be carried away. The new front door was apple red and sturdy, with proper locks. Nino’s friend owned a sign company and she was able to create a beauty black and red plaque for above the shop, with the branding name and logo, a small ladybug with a winding trail of black dots.

Inside, the shop was painted white to allow the maximum amount of light. There was a feature wall of red and white wallpaper with a royal damask print, to fit in with the princess theme. Marinette had the wooden floors sanded here too, but varnished so they would survive the footfall she hoped to receive.

Scouring online and local vintage shops, the designer found some beautiful golden antique dress racks, that would allow her to display her newest creations in style. A lot of money was spent on a display cabinet that would also serve as the till, and Marinette made sure to have the latest technology to allow contactless payment.

While the workmen were busy below, Marinette sewed late into the night. Alya had managed to secure her a spread in a glossy magazine and she had to have some beautiful pieces to showcase. She had decided that her signature was going to be polka dot lining, incorporated into every garment. She was focusing on the female line first, and hoped to introduce menswear at a later date.

Marinette’s phone buzzed beside her, breaking through the whirr of the sewing machine. Easing her foot from the pedal, the designer rubbed her eyes and yawned, before reading the text.

_Nino said you managed to get a shop! Congrats. Can’t wait to see it Ax_

Marinette immediately felt guilt and shame coat her. She had been so busy, she hadn’t even had time to tell Adrien what was going on, never mind visit him. She fumbled with the phone as she tried to respond quickly.

_Yes! Had some good luck for a change. Sorry I haven’t been by, I hope you and Jolie are well. Maybe we can catch up this weekend? Xx_

She smiled as Adrien replied with a photo of a grumpy Jolie.

_Sounds great. Both miss you Ax_

Marinette swallowed, the familiar feeling budding in her heart. But they were just friends, she reminded herself firmly, pressing her foot down once more.

 

* * *

 

If she visited at the weekend, they usually ordered takeaway, so instead of food, Marinette brought the white wine she knew Adrien liked, and some tuna for Jolie.

“Hey,” the blonde smiled as she slunk into the apartment, trying to juggle the bag while opening the door. Adrien had been lying on the couch, Jolie on his stomach. There was a book face down on the carpet, and the black cat was soon nuzzling her feet.

“Hey, kitty,” Marinette cooed, kneeling down and letting Jolie rub against her. “Has your owner not been feeding you?”

“As if!” Adrien scoffed from the couch. “She eats me out of house and home, that one.”

Jolie meowed with dignity, as if to protest, and Marinette giggled and scratched under her neck. “Well don’t worry, pretty girl, aunty Mari has something you will like.”

She put the wine at the back of the fridge, where it was coolest, and frowned at the lack of actual food present. Marinette tipped the tuna into Jolie’s bowl, before making her way over to Adrien. He didn’t bother sitting up, simply moved his legs, allowing Marinette to sit down before carelessly laying them over her lap.

“If you only spent time with cats, you will turn into one, you know,” Marinette teased, tapping his knee. He was wearing grey jersey shorts, the type he wore to the gym, and his tan legs were covered with fair hair.

“Cats are better than humans anyway,” Adrien reflected.

“Perhaps,” Marinette smiled. “So, would you prefer cat food for dinner tonight? I was going to suggest Vietnamese, but…”

“I guess I can manage to be human for a few hours,” Adrien laughed, pulling himself upright. Marinette immediately missed his closeness, and was surprised when the blonde laid his head on her shoulder.

“Are you okay?” Marinette asked, concerned. She patted his hand, feeling immediately stupid, but Adrien linked his fingers with hers.

“I just missed you,” he admitted. “I’ve been lonely.”

“I’m sorry!” Marinette gasped, squeezing his hands. “I’ve been so busy, I just didn’t think. I promise I’ll make an effort to visit more.”

“It’s okay, Mari,” Adrien said, looking up at her. “You’re not my keeper. I’m just feeling needy, is all.”

Marinette felt her heart crumble into tiny pieces. Despite the fact he was so much taller and broader than her, suddenly Adrien seemed like a little boy she had to protect. She kissed the top of his head and gently stroked his locks, something she had always wanted to do, but never felt quite confident about. Adrien relaxed against her, his breath tickling her neck.

 

* * *

 

They eventually broke apart, stomachs rumbling, and Marinette ordered the food. They drank a glass of wine while they waited, flicking through Netflix and deciding on Ru Paul’s Drag Race (Marinette had seen all the seasons; Adrien had never heard of it).

“The makeup-skills are just amazing,” Marinette said, in awe. “I don’t even know what contouring is, never mind doing it like that!”

“You don’t need it,” Adrien told her, tweaking her nose. Marinette blushed. It was true she didn’t wear heavy makeup. Western products didn’t do well for her skin tone anyway, so she preferred Korean BB creams and a more natural look. Adrien had seen her without makeup before, but she still liked to make an effort when she visited; a little eyeliner and lip tint.

The food arrived and they worked their way through some more episodes. Adrien enjoyed the show more than Marinette thought he would, and it seemed to cheer him up considerably.

“That’s what you should do! A drag queen line,” Adrien teased. “There must be a niche market for it!”

“Not sure that's really my style," Marinette deadpanned.

“How is the shop going anyway?” Adrien asked, using his chopsticks to chase some remaining noodles. “It’s great you managed to get the deposit. I know the banks are being a real pain just now with business loans.”

Marinette squirmed uneasily. She really didn’t want to tell Adrien about the donor, especially after all the times she had turned down his loan. It would seem so hypocritical, and she really didn’t want to offend him. How would he feel, knowing she was willing to take money from a stranger, over him?

“Did you come up with a name yet?” Adrien asked, prompting her out of her panic.

“Oh, yes,” Marinette nodded. “I decided on Princess Polka Dot.”

 

* * *

 

 

To: [G.H.donates@gmail.com](mailto:G.M.donates@gmail.com)

From: [PolkaDotPrincess@yahoo.fr](mailto:PolkaDotPrincess@yahoo.fr)

Subject: RE Donation

 

Hello GH,

 

I've attached some snaps of the shop, just to let you know I'm using your money wisely and not somewhere in the Caribbean!

It's going to take a few months to get everything ready but I hope you are able to visit.

I'd love to thank you in person and somehow make it up to you.

 

Thank you again,

 

M

 

To: [PolkaDotPrincess@yahoo.fr](mailto:PolkaDotPrincess@yahoo.fr)

From: [G.H.donates@gmail.com](mailto:G.M.donates@gmail.com)

Subject: RE Donation

 

Hi M,

 

How kind of you to let me know how it's going. It looks great: you have really good taste!

I would love to come visit when it's ready.

I'm not sure how you plan to make it up to me, though...?

 

Best,

 

GH

 

To: [PolkaDotPrincess@yahoo.fr](mailto:PolkaDotPrincess@yahoo.fr)

From: [G.H.donates@gmail.com](mailto:G.M.donates@gmail.com)

Subject: RE Donation

 

SORRY, I just re-read that last line, I really didn't mean that to sound sexual.

Please accept my apologies! ;__;

 

GH

 

Marinette spluttered and blushed as she read the email. It had sounded a little sexual, but she had assumed GH was little old man, so the thought hadn't really crossed her mind. But now, it seemed the donor was someone younger, especially with the use of the emoticons. She wasn't sure of anyone so young who could idly throw 200,000 euros at a budding designer, but she guessed they must exist. Perhaps a friend of Adrien's? He was used to being in pretty wealthy circles back in the day, though he didn't tend to socialise anymore, since his father passed away.

 

Marinette shook his head. She didn't want to ask him, and plus, Alya was already on the case. And if anyone could find out a secret identity, it was Alya. God knows it had only taken the journalist a few years to realise she was Ladybug.

 

To: [PolkaDotPrincess@yahoo.fr](mailto:PolkaDotPrincess@yahoo.fr)

From: [G.H.donates@gmail.com](mailto:G.M.donates@gmail.com)

Subject: RE Donation

 

Hi GH,

 

Don't worry, I didn't consider it like that.

Please be warned though, if you do plan to blackmail me sexually, I am always around sharp scissors.

 

Best,

 

M

 

To: [PolkaDotPrincess@yahoo.fr](mailto:PolkaDotPrincess@yahoo.fr)

From: [G.H.donates@gmail.com](mailto:G.M.donates@gmail.com)

Subject: RE Donation

 

Dear M,

 

That makes me glad. I like a girl who can protect herself!

 

p.s still not hitting on you.

 

GH x

 


	3. Chapter 3

If it hadn’t been for his years of modelling, Adrien would have struggled to school his features into a mask of composure. As it was, his insides were twisting. Marinette was the designer? The one he had been flirting – no – corresponding with? She blinked at him, completely unaware that the donor she had been so desperately trying to find was right in front of her.

“Adrien? You okay?” Marinette asked, touching his arm. He jumped, shaking his head to clear it.

“Yes, sorry, just thought I’d heard of that before, somewhere…” he covered awkwardly. “How did you come up with it?”

“Well, polka-dots seem to creep into all my work,” Marinette laughed, flipping up the bottom of her shirt, revealing a pattern of pink spots on the material (and her bare stomach, which Adrien tried to ignore). “I thought it would make for a nice signature if all my pieces could share the same lining, but colour-coordinated. What do you think?”

Adrien nodded. “That’s a great idea. It will make you stand out.”

“I hope so!” Marinette held out her hands, showing off her blistered fingers. “I’ve been working like crazy to create pieces for this magazine spread Alya managed to blag for me. I think I’m dreaming of spots now…”

 

* * *

 

Luckily for Adrien, Marinette soon dashed off to finish said collection, allowing his heart-rate to return to normal. What were the chances, out of every budding fashion designer in Paris, the Marinette would be the one to receive his money? The blonde shuddered as he imagined her reaction. She would hate him, for sure, and he would lose one of his last true friends. Alya would problem gut him, too, after grabbing an exclusive.

He thought hard. There was no way that she would discover his secret, as long as he was careful. Goodness knows it wasn’t the only thing he kept hidden from his friend.

Speaking of which, Adrien’s mobile phone buzzed, reminding him it was his monthly meeting with Ladybug. He grinned, locating Plagg’s box and slipping the ring on quickly. A night run was exactly what he needed to clear his head.

The bubbly feeling in his stomach, a mixture of excitement and nervousness, was normal for this type of meeting. They were older now, and his schoolboy crush had developed into something much more: adoration, worship, obsession. There were many words, depending on his mood.

As he waited for Ladybug, his boot tapping idly against a gutter, Chat once again turned over the worst memory this suit held for him. The day they had been led by Le Papillon into a wild goose chase, with many obstacles and illusions. Ladybug had been separated from him, but he had pursued alone, determined to free Paris from its villain once and for all.

He had achieved that, at a personal cost.

Chat squeezed his eyes shut, but the memory still played vividly in his mind: Le Papillon wrestling with him, and eventually tugging off his ring. Adrien, defenceless, waiting for the killer blow. Instead, the thing he expected the least: his enemy’s tears, and his own disguise dropping, to reveal his father. The ring and the brooch clattered to the ground.

The mixture of horror, disgust and shame that flashed over Adrien’s face would have been undeniable. His father took one look at him and threw himself off the twenty-story building.

By the time Gabriel Agreste had landed in the Seine, he was dead.

 

* * *

 

Chat swallowed, brushing tears away from his eyes with his palms. There was nothing he could have done, but he still played the scene over and over in his head. If he had been slightly faster at grabbing the ring and transforming, could he have reached him? Should he have hidden his emotions, hugged his father instead?

But could he live with that scenario either?

Chat sighed and flipped opened his baton. Ladybug was often late these days, but two hours was a new low. Perhaps she had forgotten. His spirits already dark, Chat stood up, preparing to leave.

“Chaton!”

The noise startled him, and Ladybug slammed into him without warning. He fell to the ground, clutching her, and her head bumped against his chest.

“Sorry!” she gasped. “I didn’t forget, I promise! I just got caught up in something, and I swear every clock I have is wrong…”

“It’s okay, my lady,” Chat smiled winningly, kissing her cheek. “You’re here, that’s all that matters.”

“Thank you,” she said, clearly trying to get her breath back. They sat up and laughed, and Ladybug ran her fingers lightly through his hair.

“It’s getting so long,” she smiled.

“I’m too lazy,” Chat admitted with a grin.

“I like it long,” she confessed, and he felt himself blush.

They chatted about the last month, about the idle things of their civilian lives that wouldn’t give them away. It had always been Ladybug that had wanted their identities kept secret, but after the death of his father, Adrien had guarded Chat jealously. He couldn’t bear anyone to know the reality of Gabriel’s demise, especially Ladybug. She already felt guilty enough that he had to deal the final blow: or so she believed. It was essentially true. After Chat and Le Papillon’s final encounter, the villain had disappeared without a trace. Chat was hailed a hero, but he disappeared from the public eye. It was Ladybug that had begged him to keep in contact. She was the one who suggested counselling, which he had attended. He had talked out his father problems, but only regarding the suicide.

They were enjoying the sunset together when they heard a plaintive meow from the opposite roof-block.

Ladybug cocked her head. “That wasn’t you, right?”

Chat laughed, and stood up to get a better view. There was a kitten in the gutter, watching them, and looking rather disheveled.

“Hey, kitty!” Ladybug cooed, also getting a better look. “Where’s your mama?”

The grey kitten cried out again, and dangled a paw over the gutter. In an instant, Chat had leapt across the gap and nabbed the cat by its scruff.

Ladybug soon joined him, peering at the kitten in his arms. “He looks so young!"

“I think he’s been left,” Chat said sadly. “Probably runt of the litter.”

“Poor baby,” Ladybug sighed, stroking the kitten with one finger. “Will we take it to a shelter?”

Chat wrinkled his nose. He thought of his local shelter, bursting at the seams.

“I can take him home,” the blonde said. “Assuming it’s a he.”

“Oh?” Ladybug smiled. “Have you had kittens before?”

“I have a cat,” Chat explained, “she was a mother, so she might be able to nurse this little one.”

“Perfect!” the heroine clapped, apologising when the kitten jumped.

“Best take him home now, he’s shivering…”

“The leather isn’t helping…” Chat struggled to grasp the kitten who was evading the cool material of his chest, claws slipping.

“I have an idea…” Ladybug said. “Turn around and close your eyes…”

Seconds later, she handed him a thin scarf, typical of any Parisian woman in autumn. Chat blushed and wrapped the kitten in it, making him easier to handle.

“Send me pics!” Ladybug giggled, kissing his cheek. “Get home safe, little one.”

 

* * *

 

Chat was shaking with adrenaline when he arrived home. He was holding Ladybug’s scarf, and once he detransformed and gently let the kitten down, he raised the material to his nose and caught a sweet musk. Was this his lady’s real fragrance, under the suit?

A frightened meow brought him back to his senses, and Adrien scooped up the kitten and went in search of Jolie. She was lounging in her favourite spot, the window seat, where she liked to keep an eye on pigeons. Adrien slowly knelt before her and brought the grey bundle of fur up for inspection.

Jolie narrowed her eyes and sniffed the kitten, who wriggled in response. Very carefully, Adrien plopped grey fluff-ball next to his pet. The black cat nosed the kitten several times before leaning over and beginning to lick.

The model sighed with relief. He dug through his pocket for his mobile phone and called the cat shelter. He was going to need some advice on what to do next.

 

* * *

 

Several hours later, Adrien had fitted out his large bathtub with all the blankets he could find. He brought in Jolie’s wet food so she could eat if needed, and stuck a hot water bottle under the blankets so they would have a warm patch. He’d also unplugged the portable heater from his bedroom and set it up on the toilet seat, out of reach, but still blasting hot air into the room. He had ordered a heat pad, kitten formula and various other things online after speaking to Zach from the shelter. Of course, Adrien had paid extra so it would arrive the next day. He was hoping Jolie would nurse, but if not he could bottle feed the kitten every few hours.

“Oh right, the photo!” the model remembered. He realised how late it was: for the first time in a long while, he hadn’t been watching the clock, wishing time would speed up.

Adrien waited until Jolie had started bathing the kitten again, then snapped a picture for his lady. He had set up a patch on his phone, so rather than using his baton, he could send direct photos to her compact this way.

“We need a name for you,” the model grinned. “Assuming you are a boy. Maybe I’ll just call you minou until we know.”

The kitten yawned, showing off his pink tongue, before latching onto one of Jolie’s teats. Adrien blinked and watched, wondering if anything would happen. His black cat lay back like a queen, and the model felt his heart swell as he saw the kitten suckle, a bead of milk dripping down his chin.

“Good girl, Jolie!” Adrien felt his eyes water with pride. “What a good mama you are.”

The black cat lolled back indulgently, as if she had been born to feed stray kittens.

 

**CN: It worked! The kitten was able to nurse. So happy :’’3**

**LB: Aww, chaton! That is great news \^^/ They look adorable together!**

Marinette tilted her head again at the photo. Perhaps all black cats really did look the same, but this one did look an awful lot like Jolie. She shook her head and laughed. As if! She had been sewing for hours late at night and it was making her delusional.

 

**Mari: Want to do dinner tomorrow? X**

 

**Adrien: Of course! I have a little surprise for you…x**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is such fun to write ^^ if you don't already, follow love2foster and foster_kittens on instagram! They do inspiring work and so many cute vids of kittens and mama cats.
> 
> What should I name the grey kitten? Comment below :3


	4. Chapter 4

Marinette swallowed. A surprise? She tried to think what it might be. Perhaps Adrien was returning to modelling? Or maybe he’d found a new Japanese restaurant? It could be anything. Even a small grey kitten…

The fashion designer paused, her mouth full of pins as she finished the last garment of her collection. The magazine spread was only going to showcase three pieces, but Marinette had gone ahead and made ten, so they could edit on the day. It was hard to predict what the Fashion Director would like, and it was always good to have backups. Alya had worked hard to swing this for her, and she had to step up.

But… that damn photograph was distracting her from her work. Marinette would forget about it for an hour or two, then the thought would sucker-punch her once again, making her reel. Adrien Agreste. Chat Noir. Both were separate conceptions in her head, as different as cotton to leather. She stroked the jacket that had been inspired by him, with structured shoulders and cuffs. Inside, the lining was a lime green polka dot.

It was impossible to imagine Adrien as Chat Noir. He was confident, yes, but with impeccable manners and a middle-class upbringing. Meanwhile her chaton was a loud show-off who was quite frankly, rough around the edges.

“Then again…” Marinette hummed. She was a quiet mouse compared to Ladybug, though she had gained confidence as she matured.

There was only one thing for it. Tomorrow, she would know the truth.

 

* * *

 

“You’re early!” Adrien greeted her at the door. She usually dropped by about 7/8pm for dinner, but tonight she arrived just after five. Her friend didn’t seem to mind too much, and took her bags of food. It was her turn to cook, and she was going with an easy curry.

“Yeah, I finally finished the collection and was hungrier than usual,” Marinette explained, only half-lying. She dumped the bags on the counter and looked around.

“Is Jolie hiding?” she asked brightly.

“Oh,” Adrien grinned, grabbing her hand. Marinette jumped at the sudden touch, and the whoosh of nerves in her stomach. “Come with me!”

The designer could feel her heartbeat fill her eardrums as Adrien led her to the bathroom. Perhaps a new litter tray, or a cute collar or something? There could be many things the model wanted to show her, Marinette tried to reason with herself. But then Adrien opened the door, and tugged her over to the bathtub, excited as a child.

“Cute, right?” the model beamed, as proud as a father. Marinette felt her palms sweat and clasped his hand in reflex as she looked down at the little grey kitten. Jolie had trapped the tiny cat with her paws and was adamantly bathing him.

“C-Cute…” Marinette repeated, because her mind had gone blank. Adrien squeezed her hand, and her brain fizzled.

Chat Noir was holding her hand.

She was in love with Chat Noir…

“Mari?” Adrien turned to her, sounding worried. “Are you okay? 

It was the concern in his green eyes that broke her. Concern she had seen in his eyes before, when they had been on the battlefield together, or when she had complained of being tired, or if she sneezed or coughed. Her wellbeing was always his number one priority.

She trembled, tears squeezing from her eyes faster than she could stop them. Marinette was suddenly crying uncontrollably. Strong arms immediately surrounded her body, holding her close.

“Hey,” Adrien breathed, smoothing her hair. “Are you okay? Is it the collection?”

She nodded, because it was easier to explain that she was crying because she was tired and stressed. Adrien understood better than anyone about the pressures of fashion, so he hugged her tighter. She felt completely safe in his arms, in the same way she had always felt safe with Chat at her back.

“It’ll be great,” Adrien reassured her. “You’ve got this! I know how hard you’ve been working. Look, your clothes are practically falling off you. We should get you some food, you’ll feel better.”

He was blabbing now, panicking because he didn’t know how to deal with a crying woman in his arms, and it made Marinette smile.

“Thank you,” she said, leaning up to kiss his cheek. It was a move she had done hundreds of times, a sign of greeting or farewell, but for some reason this kiss was charged. It didn’t help that Adrien moved his face and she accidently brushed his lips. Marinette stepped back, pink, tucking a loose curl behind her ear.

“Sorry,” she squeaked. “I haven’t been getting enough sleep. But look at this little guy! Does he have a name?”

“Not yet,” Adrien admitted, clearing his throat nervously. “I don’t know for sure if he’s a boy yet, I’ll take him to the vet tomorrow.”

Marinette chewed her lip and slowly leaned over the bath, using the tip of her finger to stroke the kitten.

“What a good mama you are, Jolie,” she smiled.

Adrien bumped his hip against hers as he petted the cats. “I’m so glad he was able to feed. I might need to keep an eye on his weight and supplement him if he’s not gaining.”

“He is scrawny, poor baby,” Marinette agreed.

“Like you,” Adrien teased, poking her side. “Let’s get dinner.”

 

* * *

 

 

Adrien offered to cook, since she was so tired, but Marinette refused, so they ended up cutting vegetables together. They worked in silence, not awkward, but still fused with something. Marinette felt confused. Her feelings for Adrien hadn’t changed…but how did she feel towards Chat, now she knew who was under the mask? It was hard to express in precise words.

They watched the news as they ate, but Marinette could barely focus on the screen in front of her, never mind the food she was eating. Her stomach seemed to squeezed in on itself and she had barely managed a few mouthfuls.

“Hey, I’ll clean up,” Adrien said, taking the dishes from her as she made her way to the kitchen. “You don’t look so great. Do you want to stay tonight?”

His green eyes were completely full of concern for her, and Marinette wanted more than nothing else to say yes. But how could she sleep in the spare room, knowing she was only a few walls away from her chaton?

“I should go home,” she smiled weakly. “Big day tomorrow.”

“Of course,” Adrien was quick to agree. “Let me know how it goes, okay? Is Alya picking you up?”

Marinette nodded.

“Okay,” Adrien fluttered around her, clearly unsure whether to embrace her or not as she pulled on her light coat. “I hope you sleep well.”

“Thanks,” Marinette swallowed. “Night, Adrien…”

She rushed out the apartment without another word, regret foul in her heart.

 

* * *

 

 

“You didn’t sleep a wink, huh?” Alya tutted in the morning, propping up the front door. “We’ll get coffee en-route. Can I take some bags?”

Marinette indicated to the scarlet dress-covers hanging on the rack. She had painstakingly hand-printed the brand name onto them night before.

They arrived at the photoshoot location, a small studio off Avenue Emile Zola. The photographer was a small woman with choppy, short blonde hair, and she gave Marinette a tight handshake and no smile as she introduced herself as Misha.

They had provided three models: Renée, a black girl with a beautiful big afro; Astrid, paler with natural red hair and big blue eyes; and Bella, a curvy model with a sharp, black bob. The designer was glad she had brought more than three pieces, so she could assemble her looks that would best reflect their colourings and body shapes.

The fashion editor of the Magazine, Estelle, also joined them, and she flicked through the looks on the rack without giving anything away (Marinette couldn’t help but thinking of Gabriel, with a tinge of sadness).

“These, this one, and we’ll try this,” Estelle snapped at her assistant, and Marinette was surprised the Chat Noir jacked was picked. The next hour was a blur of dressing the models, make-up and accessorising with pieces from the brand sponsoring the shoot. When the girls were ready, Marinette produced her Polaroid and took quick snaps of the girls. It would look nice in display on the shop till.

After that, it was just a case of watching Misha take control of the set. Occasionally Marinette would jump up and help showcase an eye-catching detail on an outfit, but for the most part, she simply watched in awe as her clothes came alive.

Alya squeezed her friend's hand. “Feel real yet?” she asked.

“Nope,” Marinette laughed. “Thank you so much for this.” 

“No problem, girl,” Alya smiled. “Now, if I could just find out the identity of Mr GH, I would be on cloud nine.”

“Still no luck?” Marinette asked, disappointed.

“Nada. He knows how to cover his tracks, all right.”

Marinette nibbled her lip. “He says he’ll come and see the boutique when it’s ready. I wonder if there’s any way to tell if it’s him?”

Alya sighed. “I’ll have my beady-eyes on the look out, that’s for sure!”

 

* * *

 

 

Although she was exhausted, Alya made Marinette stand with the models and get her photo taken. Alya was providing the copy for the interview so there was no need to hang around once the girls were undressed and the clothing zipped up.

Marinette made sure to shake everyone’s hand and thank them personally. She had brought cupcakes from her family’s bakery, but she wasn’t sure anyone would actually eat them: fashion world, after all.

After dropping the clothes at the dry cleaners, Marinette went back to the boutique. The sign was looking good, she smiled, as she unlocked the shop. There was still some work to do on the interior, but all in all, the shopfront was coming together. She laid out the polaroids from the shoot on the till, and promised herself to get a frame tomorrow. A cheap one, of course.

Marinette dragged herself up the stairs to her apartment. It was getting cold now, being early autumn, and the upper floor wasn’t well insulated. She would have to invest in a storage heater. Maybe she could find one second-hand online? In the meantime, she made herself some warm coffee and ate the last of the fresh bread and cheese that she had left.

Her phone buzzed, and Marinette’s heart lightened to see a text from Adrien (Chat Noir, her brain reminded her):

 

**Adrien: How did it go!?!**

 

**Mari: Good, thank you! I can’t wait to see what final shots they use. How is the kitten?**

**Adrien: Great! I knew it would go well ^^ it’s a he! And he’s fine. I’m struggling for names…**

**Mari: Hmm…**

**Adrien: I’m feeding him from a little syringe atm…**

 

Marinette gasped at the adorable photo. Adrien had managed to take a selfie with the kitten pressed against his cheek, little drops of milk dripping down the fuzzy grey chin. Although the image was downright adorable, it stirred something in her. Something about this beautiful, kind-hearted boy made her want to sob, while another part of her wanted to be consumed by him, right now.

 

**Mari: So cute! Glad he is well otherwise. How about… Totoro? Or Toto, for short?**

 

**Adrien: …**

**I LOVE IT! Totoro it is :3**

Marinette giggled. Really, how had she not seen it before? Adrien was a total cat-lover. A sudden thought hit the designer. How was she going to handle seeing Chat next time they met up? How was she supposed to act normal, knowing it was Adrien Agreste stupidly flirting with her?

 

To: [PolkaDotPrincess@yahoo.fr](mailto:PolkaDotPrincess@yahoo.fr)

From: [G.H.donates@gmail.com](mailto:G.M.donates@gmail.com)

Subject: RE RE Donation

Walked by the shop today! Sign looks good :)

When’s the big open day?

 

GH x

 

To: [G.H.donates@gmail.com](mailto:G.M.donates@gmail.com)

From: [PolkaDotPrincess@yahoo.fr](mailto:PolkaDotPrincess@yahoo.fr)

Subject: RE RE Donation

Omg really? You should have said hi!

I’m hoping to be ready to go in a month’s time. You’ll come to the party, won’t you?

 

M

 

To: [PolkaDotPrincess@yahoo.fr](mailto:PolkaDotPrincess@yahoo.fr)

From: [G.H.donates@gmail.com](mailto:G.M.donates@gmail.com)

Wouldn't miss it for the world!

 

GH x

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am ill, once more! Damn these tonsils ;;  
> Anyway I had a lovely weekend in London meeting some of my favourite Japanese fashion designers and artists~
> 
> Congrats to: tinaholic for picking the winning cat name!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The new eps. OMG. No spoilers but I have a lot of FEELS.

Adrien traced his fingertips over the keys of his Macbook, restless. It had been a whole week since he had seen Marinette, and although he had invited her over, she had sent apologies. The opening party was less than a month away and she was currently working against the clock to get the shop ready. There had been issues with pipes, causing part of the downstairs to flood. Adrien had offered to help, but Marinette had explained the shop was so small, there was only enough space for the workmen.

_I’m so sorry, but I’ll drop by as soon as I can!_

Adrien re-read the text and shook his head. He was pathetic, pinning after her like a lovesick puppy. At least Totoro had kept him preoccupied, and he had met again with Ambre to finalise the next step for the charity.

The blonde tapped his fingers against the keys. His father’s death anniversary had come around again so quickly, and for some reason, this time, the grief was worse. Adrien made his way through two bottles of wine but still the fight with Hawkmoth was a fresh as splattered paint. The model found himself curled under the kitchen table, rocking back and forth as tears poured down his face. He whimpered to himself, trying to make sense of it all as his heart broke all over again.

_Why, father? Why did you do it? Why did you hurt all those people?_

_How could you keep such a secret from me?_

But Adrien too, had kept a secret. How would his life be now, if he had confessed to his father that he was in fact Chat Noir? Would it have altered their fates, or would they have fought to the death instead?

The more he thought about it, the more Adrien felt sick. If he couldn’t black out from drink, he would have to take something stronger. The blonde managed to crawl to the bathroom and locate his box of pills. There was a variety: painkillers, anti-depressants, cold meds. The only thing stopping Adrien from swallowing them all was Jolie brushing again his leg, meowing in warning.

“You’re right,” he nodded, putting his head in his hands. “I need to atone for his sins. I need to keep using his money until there isn’t a penny left!”

Jolie purred soothingly and rubbed her cold nose against his hand. Adrien patted his pockets for his wallet and fumbled for his card, the one linked to Le Papillon's money. The alcohol had hit him now and he dropped the wallet in his haste, spilling cards and coins onto the tiled floor. Jolie jumped away, back to the bath, where Totoro was snuggled against the blankets.

Adrien searched through the plastic and colourful business cards. A neon pink one jumped out to him, and he remembered the encounter with a flash. It had been the last time he had been in public, at an opening party for a friend’s new club. An escort had flirted with him and pressed her card into his hand, telling him to save it for the next time he was lonely. He thought it was rude to discard it in her company, so he had hastily stashed it in his wallet.

“Cherry…” Adrien slurred, reading the text printed on her card. He managed to key in her number after several attempts, and called her.

 

* * *

 

Cherry picked her way carefully up the spiral staircase. She had never been in this part of the city before: her clients didn’t tend to have quite this much money. The concierge had frowned at her sky-high stilettos, but nevertheless had buzzed her into the penthouse floor. It was deadly quiet and the lights flickered on and off as she stepped into the corridor. It appeared Adrien owned the whole floor, and the escort whistled lowly.

She wasn’t quite sure why he had called her tonight. They had met six months ago and although she had been captivated by the model, he had barely offered her more than a polite smile. She had screwed up her courage and offered her card, not because he was rich, but because he was beautiful.

Cherry chewed her lip before knocking the door. Adrien had sounded very drunk on the phone and it wasn’t that she wasn’t used to it, but she was worried why he had called her. It wasn’t a secret that the model had shunned his high-flying friends since his father’s passing. Cherry had once passed up an interview opportunity for good money because the trashy magazines wanted to know about his love live. But among all her escort friends, no-one knew anything about Adrien Agreste.

Cherry gave the door three brisk knocks and huddled into her faux fur jacket. The corridor was cold as a tomb. She had opted for a glittery cocktail dress but now she felt rather silly as she waited. Five minutes later, there was no answer and she tried calling him. Knocking again, she started to become worried.

“Adrien?” Cherry rapped the door louder and was shocked when it moved in the frame. She pushed the door open, clicking into the apartment carefully. The place seemed empty, and the escort kept her phone close to her chest. It wouldn’t be the first time she had called the police on a client. She avoided a smashed wine glass on the kitchen floor and noticed another empty one on the table.

A loud meow startled her and Cherry followed the noise to the bathroom. She blinked at the two cats in the bath, and then gasped upon realising Adrien Agreste was slumped on the floor, credit cards scattered around him like petals.

“Oh, Adrien…” the escort sunk to her knees and tapped his cheek. He was breathing, at least. Cherry huffed, moving her bright pink hair from her face. She rolled Adrien onto his side and put him in the recovery position. At least he hadn’t been sick.

“C-Cherry…” he whispered.

“I’m here, Adrien,” she said, filling a glass of water from the sink and kneeling beside him. “Are you okay? Did you mean to call me?”

“Yes…” the model managed to sit up with her help, and gulped down the water. “Sorry…I didn’t mean to get so drunk…”

Cherry tilted her head. It wasn’t often she received apologies.

“I…wanted to be with someone…” Adrien explained, his eyes downcast, fists on his knees. “I was… lonely…”

“Oh, Adrien…” Cherry swallowed. She remembered her last words to him.

“I’m not sure what your usual services are but…” the model rubbed the back of his neck, “Could you just…lie with me? Until I sleep?”

Cherry broke into a smile, trying to stop tears in her eyes. “Of course, Adrien…”

She helped him into bed, staggering a little with his weight. She took off her heels and her jacket and scooted behind him, rubbing his back comfortingly.

“Thank you…” Adrien sighed.

“You’re welcome…” Cherry replied. “But…why did you call me, Adrien? You know girls like me go to the press. Aren’t you worried?”

“Alya told me…” Adrien mumbled. “That her boss offered you a lot of money for a story. But you said no. So I wanted to repay you some way…”

Cherry shook her head. “You are something else…”

“Thanks…” Adrien smiled, before falling into a deep sleep.

 

* * *

 

 

“Adrien?” Nino clattered into the apartment an hour later, clutching a bottle of whisky and two pizza boxes. “Hey man, did you go out for a change?”

The DJ dumped his cargo on the table and checked his watch. It was only ten o'clock, and he’d came straight from a gig. He’d asked to be the first set so he could reach Adrien’s in time. He had remembered it was Gabriel’s anniversary and wanted to be around for his best friend.

“Adrien?” the door had been unlocked so he knew the model was at home. Nino frowned, checking the study and the bathroom before going to the bedroom.

“Shhh…” a pink-haired woman wearing a glittery gold dress crept out before he could even touch the door handle. “He’s sleeping…”

“Who the hell are you?” Nino hissed, taking a step back. He had never seen the woman before.

“Cherry,” she said, indicating they move away from the door. “Adrien called me. He was in a pretty bad state.”

“Damn it,” Nino ran a hand through his hair. “How bad?”

Cherry nodded her head towards the bathroom. “Passed out on the tiles bad. There were pills but I don’t think he took any…”

“Shit. I tried to get the day off. I should have been here!”

“Does this happen a lot?” Cherry asked, hands on her hips. Her dress was very short and Nino did his best not to notice. Alya would kill him.

“Since his dad… yeah. And today’s one of those bad days for him.”

“I see,” the escort nodded. “That’s why he called.”

“Are you…I didn’t realise he had a girlfriend…” Nino said, a little hurt.

“Oh no,” Cherry laughed, waving her hand. “I’m just a hooker.”

“A…?!?” Nino choked. “And Adrien called you?”

The bedroom door clicked open, and the blonde in question shuffled into the room. He looked awful.

“Nino? What are you doing here?”

“Me?” the DJ’s voice cracked. “I just wanted to hang, man. It’s been a while.”

“Yeah,” Adrien tried to smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Sorry, Cherry. Let me grab my wallet.”

“I’m always up for a threesome,” the pink-haired woman giggled, while Nino coughed hastily.

“Thanks, but that won’t be necessary,” the model laughed, pressing some rolled fifties into her hand. He led her to the door and kissed her cheek. “Sorry for the trouble.”

“Anytime, Adrien,” Cherry fluttered her lashes, and patted his arm. “Anything at all.”

Adrien closed the door behind the escort and locked it.

“So?” the DJ asked. “Are you going to explain what the hell is going on?”

The blonde sighed. “I got drunk, okay? Not the end of the world.”

“Adrien, you called a hooker. She could have been anyone! She could have been snapping naked pictures of you to the press while you were passed out! And the pills all over the bathroom floor?”

“Calm down, Nino,” Adrien said, gripping his friend on the shoulder. “I’m not that stupid, okay? I just had a moment of weakness. I haven’t seen Marinette in a while and there was no one else to call…”

“You could have called me, or Alya! Or hell, even Chloe or Max or Kim! Someone would have come! Did you really have to invite a complete stranger into your home to pick you up?”

Adrien looked at the ground. “Sorry. I just didn’t want any of you to see me at my lowest point.”

“Shit.” Nino covered his eyes. “No, I’m sorry. I’m the crap friend. I knew what today was, I should have been here earlier.”

“Let’s just forget it, okay?” Adrien said. “I’m hungry after all that drinking. Let’s eat some pizza and talk about happier things, okay?”

“Sure…” Nino nodded, before pulling his friend into a tight hug. “But next time, call me okay? I don’t care if I’m on stage with Jagged Stone, I’ll be here.”

“Thanks, man,” Adrien inhaled sharply.

 

* * *

 

Nino relayed the night’s happening to Alya later in bed.

“We need to tell Marinette,” was her immediate reaction.

“I don’t think Adrien would want her to know,” Nino wrinkled his nose.

“Nino, she loves him! If he wants someone to tuck him in every night, she would happily comply. We can’t have him calling escorts every time he’s feeling low! Cherry is a swell chick but word will get out somehow, even if she’s careful. It just takes one pap to get a photo of her entering his apartment block!”

“Fine, you tell her,” Nino sighed, turning over in bed. “I can’t betray his trust like that.”

Alya rolled her eyes and hit the call button. She knew what needed to be done.

 

* * *

 

 

Marinette hung up the call, feeling numb. She had been working herself to the point of exhaustion, and although every part of her had yearned to see Adrien, she had forced herself to ignore the feeling and work on. Now, she felt guilty again. She had ignored her friend in his time of need, and he had sought comfort with a stranger.

“Nino says they didn’t have sex,” Alya had told her. “It was strictly snuggling.”

But who was Marinette to judge even if Adrien had slept with her? He was an adult male with a lot of money and not a lot of privacy. He couldn’t exactly go and pull girls like most guys, and besides, he had no social life whatever to speak of. Now that she knew Adrien was Chat Noir, it made the whole situation even worse. How could she let her partner be in such pain?

“Crap,” Marinette pulled at her hair. She couldn’t go check on him now, but there was nothing to stop Ladybug dropping by, was there? She could just have a quick look in his bedroom window. It was nearly 2am now, so surely he would be asleep?

Not able to give it much more thought, Marinette transformed and flitted over rooftops to Adrien’s penthouse. As he was on the top floor, it was easy to travel down, hoisting herself carefully down with her yoyo.

His curtains were open, and he was in bed, but simply sitting at the edge of it, head in his hands. Ladybug bit her lip, resisting the urge to knock. The model slumped forwards, his shoulders shaking, and Ladybug realised with horror he was sobbing.

“Adrien…” the name broke from her lips before she could stop it, and her fingertips brushed the window glass. The blonde tilted his head, and their eyes locked together. Ladybug flushed, realising she had been caught, and she sprang backwards. Adrien moved quickly, wrenching open the window and catching her wrist before she could flee.

“Ladybug,” he gasped, his face still wet with tears. “What are you doing here?”

“I…” the heroine was speechless. After all these years of being so careful, had she really just openly creeped on Adrien?

The blonde suddenly pulled her into the apartment, and she gave a squeak of shock as he enveloped her into his arms.

“I don’t actually care,” he muttered into her hair. “You’re here, that’s all that matters…”

“Adrien…” Ladybug hugged him back with all her might. The model captured her cheeks in his hands, and leaned down, pressing his lips to hers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter just grew arms and legs and ran away from me!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all had a happy Christmas, or enjoyable festive time, however you celebrate ^^

It wasn’t often that Ladybug was caught unaware. Whether it was dastardly akuma, overzealous civilians or flirtasous cat boys, she usually had a quip and response for everything. But her mind was blissfully blank as Adrien Agreste cupped her cheeks and kissed her senseless.

He started gently, testing her. When Ladybug clung to him instead of pushing him away, Adrien moved his hands down to her hips, tugging her closer. If this was a dream he wasn’t planning to wake up: ever.

Their kisses became frantic and panicky. Adrien slowly backed her into the bedroom wall, kneading her hipbones through the material of her suit. Ladybug gasped against him, dimpled fingertips raking through his hair, pulling his mouth closer to hers.

Adrien was soon panting, short of breath. He tilted her face up so he could press his mouth along her throat, feeling her heartbeat jumping erratically under his tongue. His own palpitated against his chest, as if trying to break free from its caged prison.

“A-Adrien…” Ladybug gasped, her hands slipping to clasp his shoulders. “We should…ahh…”

“Yeah…” he agreed, feeling the blood pound in his ears. “We should…ugh…”

He rested his forehead against hers and cleared his throat. His desire was obvious and the model shifted his weight. But rather than putting space between them, he accidently rubbed against her, and Ladybug whimpered. She rocked up against him in response, a frustrated noise escaping her lips.

Adrien stared, and ran his thumb over her lower lip. She blushed, eyes darting away from his, until he forcefully brushed against her. There wasn’t much resistance between the breathable cotton of his pyjama bottoms and her suit.

“Adrien…” his name was a gargled curse now. “We need…we really need to stop.”

“Yeah,” the model agreed, the edges of his vision blurry. He pushed back from the wall, his body immediately mourning the loss of hers. Ladybug looked up at him and blinked, her lips parted and wet.

“I should go,” the heroine attempted to sound convincing, but her heart was clearly not in it. Adrien chuckled and caressed her cheek. She closed her eyes and sighed, leaning into his touch.

“You should,” Adrien replied. “But… you really don’t have to.”

Ladybug laughed at this, and turned her head, kissing his hand.

“Stay?” the blonde asked. “Please?”

Ladybug swallowed and looked into his eyes. “Okay…”

Adrien beamed, and led her over to the bed. “You don’t have to do anything, I promise. I just want you to be here. Do you want coffee? Or water? I don’t even know what time it is…”

Ladybug sat primly on the bed, fists clenched on her knees as he babbled.

“Hot chocolate would be nice,” she said.

 

* * *

 

Adrien showed her to the kitchen, glad that he had cleaned up the smashed wine bottle before going to bed. There was still a lingering smell of alcohol though, so he lit a scented candle while they waited on the machine.

Ladybug raised her eyebrow and sat down at the table.

“I don’t make this effort for everyone that jumps through my window,” Adrien informed her archly, pouring two frothy hot chocolates into tall glasses.

“I appreciate it,” Ladybug covered her smile with her hand. She accepted the glass and wrapped her two hands around it, taking comfort from the warmth.

“So…” Adrien sat down opposite her and licked the cream from his spoon. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Ladybug blinked, her blue eyes flashing uncertainly. The downside from no longer kissing Adrien (apart from the obvious) was that he could now use his mouth to do other things. Pesky things, like asking why she was here.

“Um…” Ladybug scanned the floor, willing to find a suitable answer that wasn’t incredibly creepy. Nothing came to her, and her cheeks flushed peony.

“You remembered what day it was, didn’t you?” Adrien said gently, reaching across the table to link his fingers with hers.

Ladybug blinked, caught. Sure, she had made a habit of patrolling near Adrien’s abode whenever his father’s anniversary came around, but this year was different. Now she knew Adrien Agreste had not only lost his father to suicide, but said man had been Le Papillion, their arch nemesis.

The model smiled and squeezed his hand. “I appreciate you taking the time to check on me, Ladybug. It was a bit of a rough day, to be honest. But it was worth it, to spend time like this with you.”

Ladybug didn’t think it was possible, but she blushed even harder.

“You’re so cute,” Adrien teased, taking a sip of his drink. “You do know I’ve had the biggest crush on you since school, right?”

Ladybug spluttered. Of course, Chat’s affection had been obvious, but this reveal was all still new to her. The fact that her love hadn’t been one-sided all these years…it was a lot to take in.

“You didn’t know, huh?” Adrien observed with a smirk. “I guess it was hard to keep track of all the guys head over heels for you.”

“There wasn’t that many!” Ladybug squeaked. “And anyway, you’re one to talk, Mr International model! I’m pretty sure you have more fans than I do!”

Adrien corrected her with a shrug.  “Had. Well, maybe at one point. Luckily I’m pretty much nobody now.”

“That’s not true,” Ladybug said, fiercely. “Everyone still asks about you. They hope, deep down, you’ll make a comeback someday. Labels would be fighting over what campaign you would lead.”

Adrien blinked. “I didn’t know you were interested in fashion, Ladybug.”

“I…” the heroine looked down at the table. “I admired your father.”

Adrien slowly took back his hand and wrapped it around the half-empty glass.

“I see,” he said slowly. His expression was unfathomable, and Ladybug saw the pain he had been carrying all this time. Completely alone.

“You must miss him…” Ladybug tried, gently. “It’s such a hard thing to understand, when someone takes their own life.”

Adrien looked at her, and his green eyes seemed haunted. “It wasn’t that hard, actually. He had done some terrible things.”

Ladybug pressed her lips together, patiently. If he told her of his own will, she would be able to help him.

The blonde rubbed his hand across his face. “Do you remember the night Le Papillion died, Ladybug?”

“Of course,” she replied. “I’ll never forget it. Or forgive myself, for letting Chat handle it alone.”

Adrien gave a small smile. “Can you remember the exact date?”

Ladybug swallowed. She couldn’t hesitate. “April 9th...”

“Yes,” Adrien closed his eyes. “Five years ago, today. Or technically yesterday.”

Ladybug was silent. She wasn’t sure how to react. As the model’s eyes flashed open, no doubt waiting for her to recoil, or scream in horror. But she sat still, hands folded in her lap.

“Ladybug. My father…he was…”

“I know, Adrien,” the heroine stepped in gently, as his words faded away. “I know.”

A sob broke from his throat, and instantly she was kneeling by his side.

“Don’t you hate me?” he cried, covering his face. 

“No,” Ladybug said calmly, rubbing his arm. “I could never hate you. Besides, you are not him…chaton.”

The sob instantly stopped, and Adrien opened his fingers, staring between them.

Ladybug smiled encouragingly, and stroked his hair. “Adrien. Or Chat, whatever you prefer. I love you both.”

“Buginette?” he whimpered, pitching forward. The heroine caught him in her arms, propping his head against her shoulder, rubbing his back soothingly.

“I know, kitty,” she cooed. “I know.”

Then she picked him up carefully, and put him to bed.

 

* * *

 

By the time she had arrived home, there was a flashing light on her compact. There was no sneaky way to enter her bedroom as the old windows were warped shut, so she dropped down to street level and read the message behind the car.

_Can we talk tomorrow? Usual place. CN x_

Ladybug smiled and sent a reply. She detransformed and let herself into the shop. Even the bills piling up on the counter couldn’t make her frown. She floated to bed, and dreamt of green eyes.

 

* * *

 

Chat was the first to arrive at their meeting place on top of the Arc de Triumph. It was dusk, and the heat of the day had disappeared to a cooler night, full of stars.

Chat’s stomach twisted every way as he paced back and forwards. It wasn’t possible for someone like him to have so much good luck. For his lady to know him, and his father, and to love him still: it seemed beyond belief. There had to be some drawback.

“Hey,” the heroine landed lightly beside him, her hair full of flyaways.

“Good evening, my lady,” Chat bowed, before taking her hand and pressing it to his lips. Usually her reaction was to immediately pull away and chastise him, but she allowed her hand to linger this time. Her eyes were so intensely focused on him that the black cat thought they might suck out his soul.

“You wanted to talk?” Ladybug said gently, sitting down on the edge of the arch, her feet dangling. She patted the space next to her and Chat carefully sat down. Falling off the Arc would not make for a serious conversation.

“You know I love you, LB,” he began, feeling his mouth immediately dry up. “I have done for years. I always thought…that you weren’t interested. I was just wondering…”

Ladybug perched her chin on her hand. Her partner’s insecurities were clear on his face.

“I’ve always cared for you deeply, chaton, and I don’t trust anyone the way I trust you. But I pushed those feelings deep down, because there was someone else in my life that I loved…”

Chat blinked, his lips pressed together tightly.

“That other person was Adrien Agreste, you silly cat,” Ladybug told him, leaning over and kissing his nose. “And then everything fell into place. I had loved you all this time. I just hadn’t allowed myself to listen to those feelings.”

“Buginette…” Chat breathed, and he grabbed her hand. “How did you…how did you find out it was me?”

Ladybug looked downwards and blushed. “I’m…not ready to reveal myself yet. Can you give me a bit more time? There’s something really important happening with my career just now, and I’m under a lot of stress. I don’t want to tell you who I am, when I can’t be with you properly right now.”

“I understand,” Chat smiled, brushed his thumb over her hand. “You know I’ll wait for you. No matter how long it takes.”

“Thank you,” Ladybug blushed. “Now…will you kiss me?”

Chat laughed, and leaned over, capturing her lips. Ladybug slung her arms around his shoulders, able to feel her partner’s heart beating wildly against his chest.

* * *

 

 

"Hey, Alya," Adrien popped his phone on speaker as he fed Toto from a small syringe. The little kitten was gaining weight fast, he was pleased to see.

"How's it going?" the journalist asked brightly. "Everything okay with Ambre?"

"Yeah, the charity is doing great," the blonde smiled. "Thanks for placing that piece in Le Monde, it really helped."

"No worries," Alya said breezily. "I was wondering if I can ask for a favour, actually?"

"Shoot!" Adrien said, gently placing Toto down so he could top up the water bowls.

"You know it's Mari's launch in a few weeks' time?"

"Oh yeah," Adrien blinked. With everything that had happened with Ladybug, the big day had slipped from his mind.

"I'm trying to round up some big names to attend. Mari is trying to be modest as per, but she doesn't understand the press won't cover it otherwise..."

"Leave it with me," Adrien smiled, turning off the tap. "I'll call in a few favours. Who does she have modeling the pieces for the night?"

"Students," Alya said, and she was clearly tearing her hair out.

"Of course she does," Adrien chuckled. The girl had thousands of euros sitting in the bank, but she was still trying to do everything on the cheap. "I'll make a few calls."

"Thank you," Alya said gratefully. "And um...it would help if I could tease that you will be there? You know, your first fashion event in a few years?"

Adrien smiled. If it was anyone else, they would be insensitive, but Alya just really wanted this to work out for her best friend.

"Sure, fire away. As long as they know it's a womenswear line and I won't be modeling. I'll do photos, but no interviews unless it's about Marinette or the brand."

"Gotcha. Thanks, Adrien!"

The blonde smiled as he ended the call. Jolie nudged him with her nose and he petted her as he swiped through florists located in Paris.

 

* * *

To: [G.H.donates@gmail.com](mailto:G.M.donates@gmail.com)

From: [PolkaDotPrincess@yahoo.fr](mailto:PolkaDotPrincess@yahoo.fr)

Subject: RE RE RE Donation

 

Hey, just a reminder the launch is next week!

Please introduce yourself, and maybe I can even take your measurements for the custom suit, as agreed in the terms of the Go Fund Me.

M x

 

To: [PolkaDotPrincess@yahoo.fr](mailto:PolkaDotPrincess@yahoo.fr)

From: [G.H.donates@gmail.com ](mailto:G.M.donates@gmail.com)

Subject: RE RE RE Donation

 

My, how forward of you, Princess!

I look forward to the launch ;)

GH x

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

Marinette’s fingers were trembling as she slipped on the red silk dress. It was a simple evening gown design, with a low back and a bow tied seductively at the bottom of her spine. She was hopeless with hair and make-up, so Alya had come over to help. She was also wearing a Princess Polka Dot Piece: a strapless, velvet purple jumpsuit.

“We’re killing it, girl,” Alya grinned at their reflections in the mirror. She had swept Marinette’s hair into a messy up-do, and coaxed her into dramatic false eyelashes and an exaggerated red pout. They both had flawless French manicures and Alya was rocking a smoky eye look.

“We do look pretty damn good,” Marinette agreed with a grin. “Thanks, Alya. I couldn’t do this without you.”

“That’s what best friends are for!” Alya bumped their hips together. “Besides, tonight I finally get my scoop, right? Monsieur GH himself!”

Marinette swallowed. She was nervous for the first big opening night of her shop, and the press that may or may not arrive, but equally she was half dreading, half anticipating her benefactor’s arrival.

“Remember, not a word to Adrien,” Marinette said, as they made their way down to the shop. Champagne was cooling in ice buckets and her parents had delivered little canapes and cakes: strawberry tarts, tomato quiche, pizza bites. There was definitely a red theme going on (she had implored her parents to stay, but they didn’t want to embarrass her with childhood stories to the papers).

“I know, I know,” Alya sighed. “Really, for such good friends, you have so many secrets.”

Marinette felt her heart flutter. “What do you mean?”

Alya rolled her eyes as she organised champagne flutes on the table. “Oh, you know, just the little fact you’ve been head over heels for him for years?”

Marinette laughed nervously. “Well, obviously I’m not going to tell him that one…”

The doorbell tinkled and Nino bustled in, arms full of tech gear. He gave a wolf whistle upon seeing the ladies. “Oh, nice work, Mari!”

“Hey, I helped too!” Alya laughed, helping him find a power point for his macbook. He was just doing atmospheric music tonight, so the usual decks weren’t required.

“Thanks for doing this, Nino,” Marinette smiled. She had offered to pay him, but he had scoffed. “As long as I can hand out business cards, I’m good.”

“What time is the press arriving?” the DJ asked, fiddling with his speakers.

“Any minute now,” Alya said. “I told them 8pm on the photocall, but journos are always late, even with free food and booze.”

“Adrien is running a bit late too, but he will definitely be here,” Nino said, checking his phone. “Something to do with the kitten throwing up on his suit.”

Marinette giggled. Although he had promised, her heart tugged to hear he would actually make it.

 

* * *

 

As soon as the press arrived, chaos descended. Marinette was soon blinded by lights and she tried not to sweat through the silk of the dress. Alya had wedged opened the back door to allow some fresh air to enter the small shop, and the designer smiled at her gratefully. She answered as many questions as she could, and told them yes, the shop had been funded by GH and no, she hadn’t met him yet. She declined to tell the press that he was coming tonight, because a) he might not show and b) she didn’t want to out him. She was sure he wanted to remain private for a reason.

Other guests started arriving: art and fashion students, other independent designers that Marinette had worked with or befriended, some fashion journalists who were here to shop rather than interview. After an hour of showing off her favourite pieces and having her photo taken, Marinette ushered the journalists to relax and have a drink or something to eat.

“You’re doing really well!” Alya squeezed her friend’s shoulder. Vibey music pulsed from the small speakers that Nino had set up, and people milled around, socialising or checking labels on the clothing that was hung up. As much as Marinette wanted to start making money straight away, she didn’t want to be working the till on such a big night, so instead she had provided tags. Every item was made to order, so if a customer liked something, all they had to do was write down the item number on the tag, along with their contact details and measurements, and pop it in the big polka dox box. Marinette hadn’t expected anyone to actually show interest so soon, but it seemed a few people had deposited their tags already, and some even asked for more.

The designer was so busy networking and making sure drinks were topped up that she didn’t notice Adrien slip in the shop until he was right beside her. Her neck tingled and she felt his presence before she even saw him, or felt the gentle touch on her arm. The heat pooled in the pit of her stomach as she remembered how he had recently pushed her against his bedroom wall.

“You made it!” Marinette turned, a smile on her lips.

“Sorry I’m so late,” the model grinned, offering her a bouquet of glittering red roses. “Cat problems.”

“Wow… they are beautiful, Adrien…” Marinette tailed off, accepting the roses. They sparkled in the bright lights, and it was hard to take her eyes off them… but Adrien himself was even more breath-taking. He wore a sharp, slim fit black tux with a crisp white shirt. His blonde hair was tousled in an effortless way, and a red silk bowtie complimented the red silk handkerchief in his jacket pocket. The noise of the night was blurred out by him, and Marinette struggled to compose herself. She wanted so badly to pull their bodies flush together, and carry on from where they had left off…

“This was the second choice outfit?” Marinette asked with a barely there laugh.

“Ahh, yes…” Adrien coughed, looking down at himself. “I had to make an urgent pit-stop to Ted Baker. Luckily it’s only a block away…”

“It’s lovely,” Marinette told him. “Would you like a drink…?”

The designed tailed off as suddenly, journalists descended on them, bright flashes lighting up the room, sharp shutter noises interrupting their conversation.

Adrien grimaced before twisting his features into a smile. Marinette swallowed and looked up at him, holding the roses close to her chest. It had been a while since the model had been so directly in the spotlight, and she was worried about how he would cope.

“Adrien! Can you tell us what you are doing here?”

“Are you guys in a relationship?”

“When are you returning to modelling?”

The questions came thick and fast, and Marinette’s mouth gaped open. The mellow crowd of media had suddenly turned into a pack of wolves, baying for blood.

Adrien held up his hand. “One at a time, please. I’m older now and my hearing isn’t as good as it used to be.” 

The tension was broken, and the journos laughed. Obediently, they asked their questions again, this time waiting for an answer.

“I’m here to support one of my best friends, Marinette. We were at school together, and even then I saw her potential. In fact, she won a competition of my father’s. I think Princess Polka Dot is filling a gap in the market for young woman who want accessible, fresh fashion but don’t want to pay the world for it. Independent fashion labels are even more important in this day and age, where we see major labels eating up most of the market share. I hope you can give Marinette all the positive support she deserves, as a young designer in this testing economy. And no, I have no plans to return to modelling, though if Princess Polka Dot ever decides to go into menswear, I’m sure I could lend a hand.”

Marinette swallowed hard. Adrien had easily dodged the relationship question and the journalists were busily recording or typing his quotes into their handheld devices.

“Now, if you’ll excuse us, I would like a drink. Enjoy the party.”

Adrien easily steered Marinette away from the knot of journalists, and poured them some champagne.

“You’re amazing,” Marinette blurted out as she accepted the flute.

Adrien laughed and winked. “Why, thank you.”

“No, really,” Marinette enthused. “You didn’t even break a sweat. I felt like I was going to combust on the spot, and they weren’t even asking me the questions!”

“Practice,” Adrien shrugged, sipping his champagne. “You learn a lot being in the public eye from such a young age. I don’t think I could ever lose it. But it’s just a show.”

Marinette nodded thoughtfully.

“Show me your pieces?” Adrien nudged her, and she blushed, before leading him over to the racks and explaining the range.

 

* * *

 

A few hours later, the shop had emptied, leaving behind empty flutes and chairs. Marinette gave a sigh of relief and kicked off her heels, rubbing her swollen feet.

“Good work, team!” Alya announced, collapsing on the chaise lounge. “We should make the national papers tomorrow, with that little show we put on.”

“And I scored some gigs!” Nino grinned, swigging some beer (champagne wasn’t his thing so he had stashed a few cans for later).

“It went really well, Marinette,” Adrien told her, helping himself to some leftover canapes. “Every journo I spoke to said they would run something. Congrats!”

“Thanks, everyone…” the designer could feel tears pricking her eyes. “I honestly couldn’t have done it all without you. I know you had a hand in getting the press here, and I really appreciate it…”

“Group hug!” Nino declared, and they laughed, smooshing together.

 

* * *

 

Marinette yawned as she cleaned up the last of the trash. Nino had left for the club and Alya was going home to write up her own report of the party so it would be in the inbox of news desks for the morning’s papers. She’d also taken it upon herself to start Princess Polka Dot’s social media accounts, and had hundreds of candid photos of the night to edit.

Marinette’s phone buzzed as she emptied the dregs of the champagne down the sink. Alya had sent her a photo of the exact moment she had turned and saw Adrien and the roses. Marinette flushed. Did she really look that love-drunk around him?

“Hey,” Adrien came into the bathroom and she quickly shoved the device in her pocket. “Can I squeeze in and wash my hands? I took the trash out.”

“Thanks so much,” Marinette said, patting him arm and giving him space. “You must be exhausted.”

“Not more than you,” Adrien laughed. He had lost the bow-tie in jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt, teasing tanned skin.

“I’ll just take these out to recycling…” Marinette called out, grabbing some bottles by their necks. She fumbled with the door handle, and before she knew it, her grip slipped and a bottle smashed at her feet.

“Mari!” Adrien was at her side in a flash. Luckily she had completely missed her bare feet but the broken shards had exploded all over the floor. “Here, give them to me…”

The model took the empty bottles from her and carefully deposited them on the nearby table.

“Sorry, I’m such a klutz!” Marinette flushed, rooted to the spot.

“Come here, silly,” Adrien grinned, glass crunching under his smart shoes. He scooped her into his arms effortlessly. “I think it’s time for bed, you’re swaying on your feet.”

“But…!” Marinette protested. The shop was still a mess.

“Nothing that can’t wait until tomorrow,” Adrien told her, as he kicked open the door and led them upstairs. “I don’t want to drag glass into your apartment, so I’ll go sweep up the mess. Go change into something comfortable, okay?”

Marinette nodded, speechless. The door closed and she shivered, missing the warmth of his touch and smile. 

 

* * *

 

Adrien hummed as he found a brush and pan in the cupboard and used it to clean up the broken green glass. Just to be sure, he hoovered the floor for good measure. He knew from experience that pesky specks could be wedged into the most unlikely places.

“Phew,” the model wiped his brow with his sleeve. He would ask Marinette for some water and call a taxi. Checking his phone, he was surprised that it was already 2am.

Taking off his shoes and leaving them outside the shop door (after clacking them together to remove any errant shards) Adrien padded back up the stairs. He knocked on the door.

“Mari, are you decent?” he asked. There was no sound of movement, and Adrien wondered if she was in the bathroom. Slowly, he cracked open the door and peeked in. The apartment was in darkness apart from a little lap on the coffee table. Marinette was laying on the sofa, passed out.

Adrien looked around the small room. This was Marinette’s apartment? It was tiny, pretty much the size of her whole bedroom back at the Dupain-Cheng’s. There was a small fridge with a microwave on top, and a sink with a small counter stacked with dishes. A tiny hob, with no oven. A bed was against the far wall, and a desk was in the corner with Marinette’s sewing machine. She had used scraps of fabric to try and cover the cracked stone walls. There was one other door, which led to a bathroom with a small corner shower and toilet. That was it.

Adrien sighed and rubbed his eyes. What on earth was she doing, living here? He knew it was handy for work, but the place was clearly not well heated. There was no television or computer, and the spare furnishings she had brought from home did little to liven up the place.

The model poured himself a glass of water and noticed the tap was leaking from the bottom. He took a sip and spat. The water was hot! He let it run for a while and finally it cooled enough for drinking. He checked the fridge to see if there was bottled water. It was practically bare, save for a block of cheese, two eggs and a bottle of pink champagne (no doubt gifted by Alya).

“Marinette,” he scolded, perching on the edge of the sofa. “What am I going to do with you?”

The designer mumbled in her sleep, her hand tucked under her chin. She had removed her makeup and her dark hair spilled across her face. Adrien swallowed and took another drink of water. He pulled up the contacts in his phone.

“Two-hour wait,” the operator told him. Adrien spluttered. He hardly went out anymore, and had forgotten how difficult it was to get home on weekend nights.

“Guess I’ll just hail a cab,” he shrugged. But first, he gently picked Marinette up and eased her into bed. She had swapped her silk dress for a black cami and shorts printed with white polka dots. He frowned, realising he had never told her how stunning she had looked in the red dress.

“Night, Mari,” he said, kissing her cheek. He had a smile on his face as he wandered downstairs, keys in his hand. He could lock up and post them through the letterbox.

Satisfied with his plan, Adrien opened the front door and looked down. Tiny slivers of glass remained, but his shoes were gone.

 

* * *

 

Marinette woke up with a start. She was tucked into bed; despite the fact she had fallen asleep on the sofa while she waited for Adrien.

“Dammit!” Marinette pulled on her fuzzy pink slippers and rushed down the stairs. Luckily, Adrien was still there, standing at the front door, looking confused.

“Did you call a cab?” Marinette asked, making her way over to him. “Sorry I crashed on you, I didn’t realise how tired I was…”

Adrien turned and smiled at her sheepishly. “I tried, but it’s a two-hour wait. I was going to go and hail one but…someone’s pinched my shoes.”

“What?!” Marinette gasped.

“I know,” Adrien laughed, ruffling his hair. “I mean, they were nice shoes, but I don’t think they’ll go for much…”

Marinette giggled. “Just stay here then. At least you can sleep a little until your driver is on duty. He can bring you shoes, right?”

“Yeah,” Adrien agreed. “Thanks, Mari. I know it’s the last thing you need after a busy night.”

“It’s no problem,” Marinette said, taking them back upstairs. “Sorry my bed is so small; this room couldn’t fit a double. I’ll take the couch…”

“No way,” Adrien argued, crossing his arms. “You’ve had a stressful day! I’ll be fine on the couch.”

“Adriennn,” Marinette whined, “I can’t let you do that! Your legs are so long, they would stick over the end…”

The model laughed, and he steered Marinette to the bed. “Night night,” he said firmly, pushing her so she collapsed with a giggle. She grabbed his arm, feeling the buzz of the champagne kick in, and the excitement of being so close to him again. Alone in her room, on the bed, where she’d had so many fantasies of him…

“We could…share?” Marinette offered, blushing, her eyes downwards. “It’s pretty cold tonight, and I don’t want you catching a chill…”

Adrien softened. They had fallen asleep together plenty of times, but never actually in a bed. Not that he hadn’t wanted to, ever since their friendship deepened, but the last thing he wanted was to make Marinette uncomfortable.

“If you don’t mind?” Adrien said. “I’ll go wash up first.”

Marinette nodded. She swallowed and searched in her chest of drawers. She had some baggy t-shirts of her fathers, ones that no longer fit him, and she folded it at the end of the bed.

She climbed under the covers, suddenly feeling very exposed in her pyjamas: she wasn’t even wearing a bra, and Adrien had carried her to bed!

“Hey,” the blonde came out the bathroom, his hair a little wet. He had shucked the white shirt and was still in his suit pants.

“You can wear that, if you want,” Marinette indicated to the top.

“Thanks,” Adrien said gratefully, not feeling entirely comfortable being shirtless with his best friend. It made something flit in his heart, speeding up his pulse. He pulled the plain white tee over his head, and looked down at his pants. “Do you mind if I…”

“Of course,” Marinette smiled, and scooted over to the edge of the bed facing the wall. “Don’t worry, there’s lots of space.”

He nodded, his cheeks red as he unbuckled his belt and stepped out of his clothing. He was wearing plain black Armani boxers, and was glad it was so dark. He flicked off the lamp and climbed into bed, relishing the patch of heat that Marinette had created on the sheets.

“Sleep well…” Marinette whispered, and he cleared his throat. The whole situation was so intimate, no matter how much he tried to remind himself _they were just friends._

“Sweet dreams,” Adrien replied softly, and he curled on his side, facing away from her. The pillow smelt like her, a sweet musk, and he rubbed his face against it, sleep beckoning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you use the word 'smoosh' in America? It's a good word. 
> 
> On another note, both of my fics I'm working on contain bed scenes in the latest update! It's my thing~


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been snowed in since Tuesday, when I returned from Paris for a fun trip. Photos can be found on my tumblr!
> 
> I recently broke up with my bf, so sorry about the angst in this chapter ^^

Marinette was right: it did become cold in the apartment. Adrien felt himself gravitate towards her body heat, letting his spine brush against hers. The tip of his nose was freezing, and he was glad he had kept his socks on, as his feet were like ice. It annoyed him to think that Marinette was living in conditions like this, when he knew exactly how much money was in her bank account, courtesy of Golden Heart.

_I’ll talk to her in the morning_ , Adrien promised himself. In the meantime, he gently turned over, so his chest was flush against Marinette’s back. Perhaps it was the cat in him, but he detested the cold. The heat he could deal with, but cold like this made him feel physically sick.

Although she wasn’t wearing much, his friend was radiating a delicious heat that he couldn’t keep himself from burying into. Adrien nuzzled into her shoulder, detecting the same scent that covered her pillows. He scooted closer, spooning Marinette as much as he physically could, giving a sigh of relief when her warmth began to permeate his bones. It was uncomfortable to have his arms folded against his chest, so he tucked one under the pillow, and another he slung over her hip. He would move in a moment, he told himself, as soon as he had defrosted.

 

* * *

 

When Marinette woke, she was flushed and confused. There was a heavy weight pushing against her stomach, and she wriggled, scrunching her eyes at the morning light. A small hangover beat at her temples, and her mouth felt dry.

“Adrien?” Marinette gasped, realising her friend had trapped her against his body. It seemed her silly chaton had migrated over to her side of the bed, and her nose was almost touching the wall. Although he wasn’t overweight, he was heavy compared to her slight frame, and his arm was a dead weight locked around her. Marinette felt panic flutter in her chest. Wouldn’t this be awkward for them, when he woke up?

To make matters worse, Adrien was breathing onto the sensitive part at the back of her neck. Tingles flashed down to her core with every brush of his lips against her skin, and Marinette berated herself. She needed to calm down, but her body was betraying her, her nipples taunt against the fabric of her cami, and dampness spreading between her thighs.

“Adrien…” she tried again. This gained a reaction, and the model grumbled and shifted against her. Marinette concealed a gasp as something hard brushed against her ass. Even worse, the arm currently slung over her stomach twitched, and Adrien’s fingers glanced against her breast.

Marinette closed her eyes and sunk her teeth into her bottom lip. She had been dreaming of this intimacy with Adrien since their encounter in his apartment, but it was unfair to take advantage of him when he didn’t yet know her true identity. She attempted to wiggle out from under his arm, but the sensation of her body dragging against his was enough to make Adrien jerk, and grab onto her hips. He growled into her ear, and Marinette whimpered, her face scarlet.

“Marinette…?” Adrien’s voice was thick with sleep. He immediately pulled his hand back from her breast, and scampered away from her hips. “S-sorry! I was dreaming…”

“It’s okay…” Marinette swallowed, covering herself with the blanket. She guessed exactly what, or rather who, he had been dreaming of.

Adrien’s face was ashamed, his cheeks red and his eyes downcast. He excused himself quickly to the bathroom and Marinette heard the crank of the shower turning on. Sighing, she lay back down on the bed, and let her fingers trail down the waistband of her shorts. Closing her eyes, she imagined what would have been different, if they continued.

 

* * *

 

Adrien stood under the cold spray, mortified. What on earth had he been thinking? Had he actually groped his best friend in her sleep, and tried to dry hump her like an animal? His body burned with embarrassment, but it did little to quench the fire in his stomach. His erection stood adamantly, no matter how long he stayed under the cold water, and Adrien gritted his teeth. He couldn’t face Marinette like this, so he gripped his cock tightly and allowed himself the dirty fantasy of returning to her bed: pulling up her cami top so he could suckle on her small but perfect breasts; and push down those tiny things that passed as shorts so he could bury himself inside.

Adrien covered his mouth, aware of the box bathroom and the even smaller apartment: no doubt every sound would carry through the walls. His orgasm came quickly and he bit down on the fleshy part of the hand between the thumb and finger to muffle his cries. His release spurted across Marinette’s pale blue tiles, and he allowed himself to recover his breathing before cleaning away the evidence.

 

* * *

 

Marinette prepared coffee and the leftover pastries from last night’s launch for breakfast. Adrien had changed into his suit trousers and white shirt, which was creased, but still made him handsome. He avoided her eyes as he called his driver.

“You should eat before you go,” Marinette said gently. Adrien sat across from her and took a sip of the coffee, running a hand through his damp hair.

“Adrien?” Marinette felt her voice breaking. “Please…look at me?”

His green eyes glanced at hers for a mere second before guilty flicking away. “I’m sorry, Mari. I better go back, the cats with be hungry. The Gorilla has brought me shoes. I’ll text you later, okay?”

Marinette watched as Adrien retrieved his suit jacket, and fled the apartment.

_He’s not attracted to me, only Ladybug,_ Marinette told herself, a tear trickling down her cheek.

 

* * *

 

“Nino!” Adrien voice was high-pitched in the back of the limo. “I’ve fucked up.”

 His friend’s laugh carried down the call. “What are you talking about, man?”

 “I…slept with Marinette…”

 "WHAT?!?” Nino barked down the line, immediately hitting speakerphone so Alya could listen in. “I mean…great?”

“No, not great!” Adrien bit out, unbuttoning his shirt collar so he could breathe easier. “I freaked her out!”

“Wait, start from the beginning, man. Was this last night?”

Adrien nodded, even though his friend couldn’t see him. “I stayed at Mari’s because I couldn’t get home. It was cold…so we shared her bed. You know what I’m like when it’s cold, Nino!”

“Oh god,” his best friend rolled his eyes. “Do I? You climbed me like a tree after your eighteenth birthday because someone had left the window open.”

“Exactly! Well…the same thing happened with Mari…only…I accidentally touched her while I was sleeping.”

Nino coughed. Alya raised her eyebrows at him.

“Can you be more specific?”

Adrien groaned, the shame coating him once again. “I pawed her breast. And I think I grinded on her ass, but I woke up in time.”

“Cheese crackers, Adrien. How did she react?”

“She…ugh…I don’t know. I just ran for the bathroom.”

Alya covered her eyes.

“Man. You need to talk to her. You’ve probably hurt her feelings…in some way... but you need to clarify what happened.”

“I told her I was dreaming…” Adrien admitted.

“Great…” Nino ran his hand down her face. “You know what that sounds like, right?”

Adrien swallowed. “What do you mean?”

“You basically just told Marinette you were dreaming about her being another girl.”

Adrien blinked rapidly. Had he been dreaming of Ladybug? He wasn’t sure, but that wasn’t an excuse. Hearing it from Nino made it sound even worse!

“Put it this way, man. How would you have felt if the roles had been reversed, and Marinette had told you she had been dreaming of another guy?”

Adrien felt his gut twist. _Jealous,_ he realised.

 

* * *

 

Even Alya’s messages with all the fantastic press coverage the launch had received couldn’t boost Marinette’s spirits. She washed and put on comfortable pyjamas and curled up in bed, convinced she could still smell Adrien’s scent.

Why was their relationship so complicated? Marinette sighed, tears continuing to fall onto the pillowcase. She didn’t even have the energy to go downstairs and clean, or start processing the commissions. She knew she should be happy: her dream had finally come true! So why was she behaving like a lovesick teenager?

Marinette’s mobile pinged again, and her heart beat picked up as she saw it was an email from Golden Heart. In all the excitement, she had forgotten about his absence.

 

**To: PolkaDotPrincess@yahoo.fr**

**From: G.H.donates@gmail.com**

RE: Launch!

 

Had a great time at the party, thanks for the invite. Hope you had lots of orders. The shop looks great.

 

GH x

 

Marinette gasped and dropped her phone. Her donor had been there, after all? She tried to scroll mentally through all the guests, and when no-one rang a bell, she texted Alya. Her best friend had been snapping photographs all night, and perhaps someone would stand out.

 

**To: G.H.donates@gmail.com**

**From: PolkaDotPrincess@yahoo.fr**

RE RE: Launch!

 

GH! I can’t believe you were there and you didn’t say anything? I’m sorry I was so busy that night. It went really well, thanks. Of course, I couldn’t have done it without you!

M x

 

**To: PolkaDotPrincess@yahoo.fr**

**From: G.H.donates@gmail.com**

 

RE RE RE: Launch!

I was a little shy in the end. But I enjoyed watching you! Your dress was very beautiful. It suited you well.

GH x

 

Marinette blushed. It felt weird to be complimented by a complete stranger, but it also reminded her how proud she had been, standing in her own creation for the opening of her own shop.

_One day of rest,_ Marinette told herself, burying under the covers. _Then, back to work!_

Her phone bleeped again, and the designer looked at it sleepily. Her stomach flipped when she saw it was Adrien.

 

_I’m so, so sorry Mari. I hope you can forgive me. I understand if you don’t want to see me for a while. If you would be up for it, I can make dinner this weekend? A x_

 

Marinette smiled with relief. Her poor, kind-hearted chaton. If only there was a way to communicate to him that she didn’t at all mind his actions from before.

_I need to tell him, who I really am. I can’t play with his heart like this any longer._

Marinette replied in the affirmative, and rolled over to sleep.

 

* * *

 

 

The weekend came far too soon for Adrien and not fast enough. Toto had grown bigger, and the shelter had said it was fine for him to explore beyond the bathroom. The model wanted to introduce him slowly to each room at a time, so he kept the kitten in the kitchen with himself and Jolie as he prepared dinner. He wasn’t a great cook by any means, but he could at least follow basic recipes. He was making one of Marinette’s favourites, courgette and tomato linguine with garlic bread. He had some red wine to go with it, though he wasn’t sure alcohol was the best option, given the likely serious conversation they were going to have.

Nino’s advice had been to just be honest. Marinette was the most special person in Adrien’s life, without a doubt, and he didn’t want to lose her. But after years of trying, he just couldn’t get over Ladybug. And now he knew his feelings weren't one sided, he had promised to wait for her.

Adrien blew a frustrated sigh as he stirred the sauce. He had emailed Marinette as Golden Heart, to let her know he had attended the launch, but now he wondered if he had made a mistake there, too. The model’s whole life seemed to be a total car crash and he felt trapped by all his conflicted emotions, tugging him one way and the next.

The doorbell went, and Adrien felt every one of his hairs stand on end. He wiped his hands on a towel and went to answer the door, wondering why Marinette hadn’t just walked in like usual.

“Sorry, I forgot my key,” his friend explained, her cheeks pink. She had a small carrier bag and followed him into the apartment. “I brought some toys for Toto.”

“Thanks!” Adrien said enthusiastically, and watched as Marinette knelt down to stroke both Jolie and Toto, before producing some toy mice and feathery things on sticks.

Jolie immediately pounced on the catnip mouse and dragged it away, while Toto batted at the bright feathers, intrigued.

“Can I help with anything?” Marinette asked, taking off her coat and slinging it over the back of a chair. Adrien turned, intending to hand her the cutlery, when he froze suddenly. Marinette blinked at him, confused. She was wearing a fluffy blue jumper dress that brought out the beautiful colour of her eyes. More disconcertingly, the jumper dress bared her shoulders, and Adrien was hit with the flashback of her scent as he had spooned her in bed.

“These…” Adrien managed to summon his voicebox, and Marinette nodded, taking the cutlery and setting the table. The model poured them some water and took a shuddering sip, wondering why on earth he was acting like such a lech. Since when had bare shoulders been such a fetish for him?

“Are you okay?” Marinette asked, reaching for her own glass, bumping her hip against his. Said hip, which was hugged tight by the fluffy material, which also happened to cling wonderfully to the curve of her ass…

“Fine…” Adrien avoided choking, and turned around to serve the meal into bowls. He carried them over to the table carefully, then retrieved the garlic bread.

“It looks great, thank you,” Marinette said.

“Wine?” Adrien asked, for some reason feeling stiff with his best friend, despite having shared a meal with her so many times.

“Sure,” Marinette smiled. “Just one glass though. I’ve got commissions to work on.”

“No problem,” Adrien nodded, popping the cork and pouring the rich Bordeaux into large glasses. They clinked and sipped thoughtfully, neither sure how to start the conversation.

“Alya said the press coverage was good,” Adrien smiled. “Sorry they used so much of my quote, though. It should have been more about you.”

“That’s okay!” Marinette laughed. “I know how these things work. Most wouldn’t have turned up if it wasn’t for you. I’m just delighted to get a name check.”

“I’m really proud of you, Mari. We all are.”

The designer dipped her head, blushing. “Thank you. That means a lot. And we’re all proud of you too, Adrien, and the charity work you are doing. It’s really making a difference.”

“I hope so,” the model said, twirling pasta around his fork. “I’m looking into supporting charities in Calais next. The refugees will need more help with the cold weather coming.”

Marinette nodded. “We forget how luckily we are, having a roof over our heads.”

“Yes,” Adrien agreed. Although he wanted to chastise Marinette for her meager living quarters, the mood wasn’t right. He’d bring it up another time.

 

* * *

 

 

They finished their meal in a more comfortable silence, and Marinette cleaned up while Adrien fed the cats.

The designer settled on the sofa, and Jolie perched on her lap, as if sensing that she needed support. Marinette’s heart was throbbing painfully in her chest, and she was battling tears. She needed to tell her chaton, so badly, but she was so scared of hurting him.

Adrien sat down next to her, his shoulders clearly tense. He obviously thought they were about to have a very difficult conversation.

“So…about the other night…” the model spoke up, holding a cushion against his chest.

Marinette stroked Jolie’s glossy black coat, and tried to summon the correct words.

“I just wanted to say sorry, again. I never ever want to hurt you, or frighten you, Mari. I’m honestly not that type of guy.”

“I know you’re not, Adrien,” Marinette reassured him. “Anyone who knows you knows you’re not like that.”

Adrien scratched the back of his neck, uncomfortable. “Thank you. But it made me realise we maybe need to set boundaries in our relationship. I do love you Mari, and you’re so important to me. I need you to know that.”

Marinette nodded, and the tears began to plop down her face.

“No, please don’t cry…” Adrien gasped, cradling her face between his hands. “I’m so sorry, Marinette. Please…what can I do to make it better?”

The designer swallowed, the dam in her heart breaking. Why couldn’t she be strong, and just tell him the truth?

“I’ve hurt you, haven’t I?” Adrien said sorrowfully, pulling her into his arms. “I’m just an idiot, Marinette. Please. Don’t let this be the end of us…”

She cried softly against his chest. Her chaton. She could see he was so confused, battling the love he had for his lady, and for her. She had to stop this now…even if it meant losing him all together.

“Adrien…” Marinette gently pushed away, rubbing her face. “I need to tell you something.”

She couldn’t miss the way he flinched, or the way his green eyes seemed to shut down. Was this how it happened with his father, she wondered? Was it from that moment on that he had expected everyone to betray him, to leave him?

“I love you,” Marinette said, her hands trembling as she held them to her chest. “I’ve loved you for such a long time, in fact.”

Adrien opened his mouth to speak, but Marinette shook her head with a sad smile. “No, not like that. Not a love of friendship. A romantic love.”

The model blinked, the cushion crushing to his chest as he processed this information.

“Mari…” tears began to spill from his eyes.

“I know…” she said, swallowing. “I know you love someone else.”

Adrien suddenly stood up, crossing to the other side of the room. Marinette could see he was tormented. It wasn’t fair, to put her partner through this, but he wouldn’t understand otherwise.

“That’s not all…” Marinette’s voice wobbled, and she managed to get to her feet, Jolie jumping onto the couch with a meow. “I…have another secret. A big one.”

Adrien turned slowly, regarding her with an intense look on his face. Marinette wrung her hands together, her whole body trembling as the anxiety threatened to overwhelm her.

“I’m…Ladybug.”

Her voice was so quiet, and reed-thin, that she wasn’t sure Adrien had heard her. He simply stared, green eyes glowing in the dim room.

“Adrien?” she asked, taking a step towards him.

“Ladybug?” he repeated, his face pale. Marinette nodded, and stopped in her tracks. Perhaps he would be angry? Disgusted? Or worst of all… disappointed?

“I’m sorry…” Marinette broke down, hiding her face in her hands. “I should have told you that night, when you pulled me into your bedroom. But you were already so upset, it didn’t seem fair…”

Adrien cleared his throat, taking a step back. “I ... need a moment…”

Marinette peered through her fingertips, but he was already gone.


	9. Chapter 9

Adrien did what he always did when the feelings capsized over him. He transformed in a rush, gulping air as if he was drowning. He flung open the window, and dived into the night, feeling the wind whistle past his ears.

She was Ladybug.

He was crying, and he wasn’t sure why. Chat pounded the rooftops of Paris, a stitch already forming in his side, but he pushed on. His head was in turmoil, and his heart was pulsing so fast, it was painful. He dropped to his knees, clutching his chest, the stinging making it hard to breathe.

Why did the most important people in his life lie to him?

He wasn’t okay, he realised. His body was going into shock, and his claws sank into his scalp, which threatened to explode around him. Every memory of Ladybug flashed before him, and he tried to place Marinette in her image. Why hadn’t he seen it? Why hadn’t he realised the woman he loved, his precious partner, had been by his side all along?

The same reason why he hadn’t realised who his father was? Because he was naïve, and stupid?

“Gahh…” Chat cried out, thumping his head against the concrete. It was cool against his forehead, and Chat lay down, flat on the roof terrace. It still didn’t make any sense to him, no matter how he tried to swap the two women around. But he was grateful for the fact that Marinette was a heroine, not a villain. If anything, that both softened the blow, and pained him more, because it had been years of ignorance on his part.

There was, of course, the other major thing gnawing at him. Marinette thought all their secrets were out in the open, but of course she didn’t know that he was Golden Heart. He was sure they could survive the revelation of their superhero status, but how on earth would his lady react, when she discovered it was none other than Chat Noir that had funded her project? The very thought made him sick. Still, it had clearly taken a lot for Marinette to come clean, and if this relationship had a chance at survival, he had to be honest from the start.

Chat closed his eyes, allowing the din of traffic and passers-by to wash over him. There was a sense of betrayal, though he supposed, he was just as guilty, for never revealing his true nature to Marinette.

 

* * *

 

It hadn’t escaped her knowledge that Adrien’s bad reaction stemmed from his father’s own secret. He had trusted her, and had thought their relationship was based on solid foundations. Marinette didn’t blame him for being hurt and angry, or to doubt their friendship.

Marinette lay on the couch, a cushion pressed against her chest. She was convinced Chat would come back soon. She had been so close to following him, but had decided against it: she had no doubt her partner would need space. It was the second time someone close to him had lied about their secret identity, and last time had ended in tragedy.

It was getting late and she was cold, but Marinette didn’t want to go to the spare room; she wanted to stay near the window, so she would be able to greet Chat when he returned. But as the night grew later, her eyes grew heavier, and the cats curled up on her chest, warming her. Jolie’s purrs were soothing and Marinette was glad that Adrien had these cats for company. She had read somewhere they were the perfect companions for coping with depression, and she could see why.

Marinette jerked to consciousness in the morning, the early light filtering into the room, painting it ghostly grey. Jolie had departed but Toto still buried into her side, snoring softly. She petted him before getting up, feeling her back crack from sleeping awkwardly.

“Adrien?” she called out, but the apartment seemed empty. She knocked on his bedroom door, but it was ajar, and she pushed it open. Her heart dropped when she saw the empty bed. Marinette swallowed, feeling tears stinging her eyes. He still didn’t want to see her.

Sighing, the designer returned the kitchen and prompted by Jolie’s meowing, filled up the food and water bowls. She retrieved her coat, and found Adrien’s spare key that was taped under a kitchen cabinet. Taking once last look at the apartment, she closed the door, locking it behind her, and posting the key back through the letterbox.

 

* * *

 

When Adrien eventually returned to the apartment, he both glad and disappointed Marinette had left. Jolie meowed angrily at him, and he felt bad, immediately going to feed her, before seeing the bowls had already been filled.

“Sorry, Jolie,” Adrien said, leaning down to stroke her. “My head is a mess.”

The black cat butted his hand, before allowing him to continue petting her. He could tell she was displeased, and chuckled at her loyalty to Marinette.

Adrien picked up his mobile from the kitchen table. There weren’t any missed calls or messages, just an email from Ambre letting him know the latest charity updates and how they could proceed regarding Calais. The blonde tapped out a quick reply and ran his fingers through his hair. He started a text to Marinette, deleted it, started again, and then slammed his phone back down on the table.

What was he supposed to say?

 

* * *

 

A week passed and Adrien was still as indecisive. He immersed himself into his work, meeting the contacts Ambre had suggested and started getting serious about supporting the networks that already existed for migrants in the area. He knew throwing money at people didn’t necessary solve the problem, and he arranged a meeting with another charity that had recently launched an app for pairing refugees with spare rooms.

Adrien constantly looked at his phone, half-hoping, half-dreading that Marinette would contact him. So when Alya called him, he felt his gut wrench and his hands shook with trepidation as he answered the call.

“Hey sunshine, what’s up?”

Adrien closed his eyes with relief. It didn’t sound like Alya wanted to kill him…yet.

“Not much. You?”

Alya’s grin could pretty much be heard down the line. “Oh, it’s been a gooood day so far. I’ve cracked the Golden Heart case.”

Adrien’s mouth went dry and he fumbled for a flat surface to support himself.

“You have?”

“Yep! Took a bit of digging. Marinette told me he attended the launch, right? So I had looked through all the invites, and all the photos, and whittled down the possibilities. I had a shortlist and everything! But I’ve finally narrowed it down, and he good as admitted it to me just there.”

“What?” Adrien felt his skin tingle at the back of his neck with fear. “Alya…are you saying you met him?”

Alya chuckled. “Yes indeedy, our girl has clinched an exclusive once again! This is gonna make me big, Adrien. All the hard work has paid off.”

“Alya,” Adrien tried to interrupt, but his friend was on a roll.

“And even better, now Marinette can even thank her donator in person! I convinced him to drop by the shop to get his measurements for his suit. He took some persuading, but he’s going to do it! Marinette is going to be so pleased…”

“ALYA!” Adrien didn’t often raise his voice, so when he did, his friend shutup immediately. The model grabbed his keys and wallet and ran out his front door. “You have the wrong guy!”

 

* * *

 

 

Like Adrien, Marinette had tried to ignore the aching of her heart by taking on as much work as physically possible. While the shop was quiet, she would sketch or sew behind the till. After closing, she would work late into the night, and stitch even in her dreams. When not buying fabric or dropping off parcels at the post office, she would clean the shop, do the necessary paperwork, and above all, try not and think of a certain blonde model.

“Bonjour!” Marinette greeted the first customer of the day with a smile. It had been a slow morning, since it was a Monday, there wasn’t much foot traffic.

“Bonjour,” the customer smiled back. He was in his late forties, with a well-groomed beard and dark hair. He wore a sharp grey suit with a black tie, and his eyes skirted over the clothing on display.

“Can I help you?” Marinette asked, coming out from behind the till. She tried to wear her brand while she was working, but today she was tired, so it was just a simple red sweater with black spots, and black slacks with pointy red shoes. Her hair was in a side-ponytail and she had managed to tie a red ribbon as decoration.

“Marinette, right?” the man said, sticking out his hand. I’m Jacques. I was at the launch party?”

“Oh, sorry!” the designer blushed, and shook his hand. “There were so many people, I’m sorry if we didn’t get a chance to talk.”

“No problem,” Jacques flashed his perfect white teeth. “I know how demanding the press can be. Actually, Alya sent me.”

“Alya?” Marinette blinked. Her best friend hadn’t mentioned anything, and she still wasn’t clear who this man was. “Do you work in the media, too?”

“Oh no,” Jacques laughed. “Bunch of pitbulls, if you ask me. Necessary, of course. No, I’m in the jewellery biz. Chaument?”

“Oh, wow,” Marinette covered her mouth. It was one of the oldest and most expensive boutiques in Paris: of course she knew it.

“Well, Alya recommended your shop, and I can see why. We’d love to feature some of your pieces for our next catalogue.”

“I’d be honoured,” Marinette exclaimed. “Did you have anything particular in mind? And when do you need it ready?”

“We can smooth the details over later,” Jacques said, squeezing her shoulder. Marinette swallowed and took a step back, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. Everything about this man oozed expense, and she knew that could be a very dangerous thing for a young woman like herself with an indie brand.

“Great,” Marinette said, retreating behind the till. She made her hands busy with a sample. “My business card is just there, if you would like one.”

She nodded to the polka dot printed cards, and Jacques picked one up, examining it. 

“No number?” he teased, as it was only the shop’s address and email listed.

“Ahh, I didn’t bother getting a landline,” Marinette explained, feeling even more uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation. “It would just be constant cold calls, you know?”

“Perhaps I can have your mobile number, then?” Jacques said, drawing out a sleek mobile from his suit pocket. “My secretary can set up a meeting for us.”

Marinette hesitated. Alya would be unlikely to send a creep to her door, but she really didn’t like the idea of giving this man her number.

“It’s broken at the moment,” she explained with a smile. “So email would be best.”

“Okay,” Jacques nodded, though his smile had grown sharper. “Perhaps you would be more willing if you knew who I really was?”

Marinette swallowed, gripping the scissors closely in her hand. “I’m not sure what you mean…”

“It’s me, Marinette,” Jacques said, holding out his arms with a smirk. “I’m Golden Heart.”

The designer felt all the air whoosh from her lungs as she took in this information.

“You must be relieved it’s not some fusty pensioner,” Jacques gave a barking laugh, leaning over the till. His fingers skirted across Marinette’s cheek, and she caught a whiff of his aftershave, potent and overwhelming. “It’s so lovely to meet you in person. Money well spent.”

Marinette felt herself panicking. She had stupidly left her phone charging upstairs, which had worked for her alibi, but now put her in even more danger. She couldn’t even risk transforming.

Jacques leaned closer to kiss her, and Marinette turned her face away. His fingers clenched in her hair, tugging her ponytail and making her yelp.

“Don’t you think you at least owe me this much?” the businessman hissed. “This shop wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for me.”

“Stop it!” Marinette protested, trying to step out of his hold. “Please!”

“Pathetic,” Jacques said, smashing her lips against his. “At least pretend to be grateful.”

The shop door slammed open, the bells tinkering angrily as someone pounded into the shop.

“Get your hands off her,” a familiar voice said, and Marinette looked up, shocked to see none other than Adrien Agreste. He looked down at the scissors clenched in her hand, and immediately turned and punched Jacques square on the nose.

 

* * *

 

Her friend and partner, who never shouted at or attacked civilians, was now wrestling on the ground with Golden Heart, who had blood trickling down his face. 

“Call the police, Mari!” Adrien shouted, sliding his phone across the floor and she nodded, jolting herself out of her daze. She unlocked it without thinking, the year of his birth, and asked for Roger.

“This is ridiculous!” Jacques shouted, as Adrien forced him into a karate hold, and made him lie down on the ground while the model sat on top of him. “Do you know who I am?”

“Yes, and I don’t care,” Adrien spat. “No matter how much money you have, you have no right to treat someone like that. Do you understand?”

“I’m Golden Heart!” the man crowed, struggling. “I’m Paris’ most beloved hero!”

“You are not Golden Heart,” Adrien said, his face red with rage. “And Ladybug is Paris’ most loved hero.”

 The police arrived a few moments later, led by Roger, and Adrien and Marinette gave statements.

“But how do you know he’s not Golden Heart?” the cop asked honestly. “I mean, I understand you were defending Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng, but can you really accuse him of impersonation?”

Marinette looked down at her clasped fingers. Adrien cleared his throat.

“They had exchanged emails, after the donation,” the model explained. “His character was quite clear through that, and the things Jacques said today didn’t match.”

The designed looked at her partner. She had never told him about Golden Heart’s donation, though he could have gotten that info from Alya during their phone call. Her mind felt scrambled, and she was still upset from forced kiss.

“I see,” Roger made some notes. “People can come across different online, though. He could have been luring her in, as it’s clear he wanted to meet her.”

Marinette shuddered, and Adrien put a comforting arm around her shoulder.

“Ask him to show you the emails, or even what the email address is,” Adrien explained. “That’s something only Golden Heart would know.”

 

* * *

 

“You’re so clever,” Marinette said, as she made them coffee upstairs. “I would never have thought of that.”

Adrien smiled wearily and sat down. “How are you feeling?”

“Icky, but I’ll live,” Marinette replied. “I’ve learned my lesson though: phone beside me at all times when the shop is open.”

“Definitely,” Adrien sighed. “Some men are monsters, Mari. Don’t let your guard down.”

She nodded and handed him a mug. She knew he was thinking about his father again.

“Thank you for coming when you did,” Marinette said. “I… don’t know what could have happened otherwise. I had the scissors, but I really didn’t want to injure him.”

“Though he had no such qualms,” Adrien frowned. “I’m just glad Alya called me. I dread to think…anyway.” The model took a sip of the coffee.

“What made you realise it wasn’t him?” Marinette asked, her blue eyes bright. “Instinct? Or did you know him previously?”

The model licked his lips nervously and put down the mug with a soft thunk. “I knew it couldn’t be him, because I know who Golden Heart actually is.”

Marinette absorbed this information and tilted her head. “Oh?”

She looked so adorable in her polka jumper and more like Ladybug than ever. Adrien whined and put his head in his hands. He really didn’t have the courage to divulge this secret, despite everything that had happened between them.

“Adrien?” she was immediately close to him and patted his head. “What’s wrong? You can tell me, chaton…”

He took a deep breath, and stood up. Marinette watched him carefully, clearly worried he was going to run away again.

“I love you, Mari,” he said, taking her hand and raising it to his lips. “Sorry I didn’t say it the other night, but I had too many thoughts in my head. But in the end, this is the only one that matters.”

“Adrien…” Marinette pressed her lips together, clearly struggling with her emotions.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you, because I didn’t want you to hate me. But please believe me…when it happened, I had no idea it was you.”

“What are you talking about, chaton?” Marinette’s eyes filled with fear, and he could tell she was predicting the worst.

“I’m…Golden Heart…” Adrien said, ducking his head. “I’m so sorry. I've been funding people's projects as a way to deal with my depression. I didn't know it was you until the night you told me the name of your brand.”

There was deathly silence, and the model felt his heart shiver. He couldn’t imagine his life without Marinette. Even if she was angry, even if it took time to forgive him…he could bare it all, as long as they could still see each other.

“You idiot,” Marinette whispered, and the blonde looked up. The designer was pink-cheeked, tears pooling in her eyes, and her hands fisted at her sides. “You silly, silly kitty. Do you really think after today, I could possibly be mad about that?”

“What?” Adrien asked weakly, but his voice was soon muffled. Marinette slammed into him, crying into his chest, and all he could do was wrap his arms around her.

“You idiot!” Marinette repeated, thumping his shoulder as she sobbed. “All this time, it was you! And you never said anything!”

“I know,” Adrien laughed gently, stroking her hair. “What a pair we make, my lady.”

 

* * *

 

Exhausted by the day’s emotional outbursts, they wound up in bed, cuddling under the covers. Marinette had closed the shop for the day, and Adrien had turned off his mobile after breaking the news to Alya.

“So I’m not getting my scoop after all,” she moaned. “God damn it, Agreste!”

“Sorry,” Adrien laughed, and Marinette giggled into the pillow. “How can I make it up to you?” 

“How do you feel about a nude shoot for a good cause?”

“Oh god,” Adrien rolled his eyes. “That would be one way to return to modeling.”

“You owe me big time!”

“I know.”

They hadn’t told Alya about the assault, not wanting their friend to take the blame or feel guilty. Adrien didn’t try and kiss Marinette either, instead nuzzling into her neck, or pressing kisses against her fingertips.

“I will pay you back, every cent,” Marinette mused, “once I make it big, of course.”

“I have no doubt you will,” Adrien grinned. “Consider it an investment, buginette.”

They talked and teased each other into the early hours, eventually falling asleep in each other’s embrace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One chapter to go!
> 
> I'm slowly removing my fanfiction from the internet as a I prepare to submit original work to publishers! So if you want to continue reading my ff, and support me as a writer, please sign up to my newsletter: https://goo.gl/oaP8EQ
> 
> There will still be fanfic stuff, like one-shots and other goodies, that won't be posted anywhere else. It's like an exclusive club ^^
> 
> Thanks for all reading and commenting so far~

**Author's Note:**

> Marichat is my favourite ship, but I just love writing A D R I E N E T T E!
> 
> It's like my comfort food :3


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